Over the Moon
by Marian
Summary: Trunks is head over heels about Pan, but their friendship is making it hard for him to tell her of his feelings. Status: Incomplete. *Chapter 8 now up!* Though it may seem so, it's not finished yet! Thanks to PCTG for Beta-reading!!
1. 1

Màrian's & Tóran's Fanfiction

Over the Moon - 1

  
  


"In fact, I didn't expect less from you, Mr Briefs...!", answered that sweet voice of hers, making him shiver, seeming pleased and funny, chuckling slightly. "So, I understand that you will come at seven o'clock?"   
He agreed and tried to sound a little less delighted with the idea. He was in heaven. He was so happy he was certain he could not have been more. His little girl, the gorgeous woman that was haunting him every night, his every dream, with her deep black eyes and that bright smile that was able to run him out of his mind, totally absorbed by her, hypnotised, the princess of his whole world – if not the queen – had just phoned him to ask him out. Well, more or less, he thought with a smile. She had just invited him to her place to watch a film and spend the night together. He was delighted. He was over the moon, joyous, ecstatic. He was totally in love.   
As he forced himself to go on with a normal conversation on the phone, listening to her –even if it was becoming really hard for him not to scream how he loved her at the top of his lungs – and answering in a normal way, his mind was focused on her only. How she would be sitting on the sofa while they spoke, looking nowhere and playing with the cord, how she would look, her face, her smile, how she bit her lower lip while he was talking...   
He needed her. So much!   
"Well, Toran, my sweet... I should go upstairs now... Mom's calling me..."   
He nodded and said a sad farewell while he felt his heart tearing apart. Within a few seconds she would be at home, doing whatever her mother wanted her to do. And he would be alone. So alone and desperate he would not be able to bear it. Not after talking to her, not after she had brought her light to his life, he would not be able to live through the hours that were left until they met again.   
But he would, thought absentminded, still talking to her, he would for he was going to see her later, only a few hours later.   
"Well, so, see you later, uh...?"   
"Sure", he exclaimed, knowing that those were the last lines she would speak before she hung up.   
"Are you sure you don't have anything better to do...? I mean, it's just a film, and..."   
"No", he shook his head to give emphasis, although she couldn't see him, "I'll never have anything better to do than spending any minute of my life with you!!"   
He heard her chuckle and wondered if he had been too enthusiastic. Ugh, no wondering, he had...! 'Never mind', he heavily thought. 'Since it's already done...'   
"That's exactly how I feel around you, you know?", she asked, her voice almost dreamy, his heart racing and his eyes wide open.   
"What do you mean...?"   
"Just what I said...! I'll never have anything better in my life than you, either. Never."   
He felt his chest full with emotion and happiness and smiled brightly. Yay!   
"You have to go, huh...?", he asked, fearful of a positive response and trying to find a way to retain her longer. He heard her sigh, tiredly.   
"I suppose I should... I don't know what mum wants, but... But I guess she can wait for some minutes more...", she ended naughtily.   
He felt relieved when he heard that she was going to stay a bit longer with him, even if it was on the phone, and sat down more comfortably in his armchair.   
"So, little Panny, we can talk a bit more...?"   
"Yep!", she exclaimed, happily. "How's life going, Toran...?"   
He smiled at the nickname. Only she used that nick for him and he had to recognise that he just loved when she did. It was just a short form from his name, Torankusu, but the way she used it was what made it so special. She always said it in a soft whisper, caressing and sweet, with a smile... He could see her, intently, as if she were really beside him.   
"Nothing special...", he finally answered.   
"Still the same boring, most eligible bachelor's life...?"   
He chuckled softly at her matter-of-factly voice. He remained the same, year after year.   
"Why...? Did you expect me to change...?"   
She chuckled as well.   
"Me...? No..!! I've known you all my life and all my life you've been the same old Trunks... The perfect bachelor... So attractive..." He blushed at her words "But, still, bored, alone, even if you don't want to tell, feeling you don't fit in your life..."   
He nodded silently, knowing she could not notice. Bored... yes, he was, his job was boring and monotonous, never catching his attention. Some people had asked him how he was able to deal with the pressure and he himself wondered for a while, until his angel came with the answer. For him there was no pressure. He didn't like his job and had never got interested enough to get involved. It was his work, nothing else. He'd seen her programming in the middle of the night, in bed, having dinner. For her, her work was a dare, something she liked to do, a problem she could not forget until she solved it, either in the office or at home. It was not her life, but she enjoyed herself doing it. For him, though, it was something that had to be done. It was the job that his mother had ordered him to do. It was a way to earn money. He hated it. And was mortally bored. That without taking into account the foolishness he had to bear everyday in the office with the secretaries having crushes on him. Torture.   
And alone... Alone...? How did she know that he was alone...?   
"Panny... tell me, are you alone...?", he went on, lost in his thoughts.   
How did she know that he was alone if he had never told anybody?!   
For he was alone since the morning, half a year before, when she first shined in his life.   
In fact, it was not like that. It had not been the first time she had shone... she'd probably been shinning since she was born. Being a teenager when she was born, their relationship had always been a special one... He was not a member of the family but was treated as an older brother or similar. She grew up by his side. She became a young pretty girl. And, god, how it hurt him.   
He found she did not need him anymore that she had grown up and he had been betrayed by time, for then he was no longer the worshipped older friend he'd been for her. He wanted her to go back in time until she was again little Panny and stay like that forever.   
Luckily, he got over it really quickly. He accepted the changes, simply, not knowing how to judge them. And still he had never felt that he was alone. Never.   
Little by little, little Panny became charming Panny, young, self-confident, lovely and so pretty that it hurt. He stopped seeing her as the child she had been, he forgot who she was and somehow the connection between the woman she was and the girl she'd been became weaker and weaker, only reminded when they talked about the past, that was very few times.   
She became his best friend. His only friend. The only one he cared for.   
She, who always had said that friendship between a man and a woman both single and heterosexual, was impossible. It would certainly develop into something more.   
"Sometimes, Toran... Some nights, when I can't sleep... Life seems heavier in the night, in bed, doesn't it?"   
Uh, yes, it did!   
"Aha... but what's the matter, Panny...?", he asked, worried.   
To love someone is not something you can choose. And he did not, god, he was sure he hadn't. He didn't have a very good concept of himself, in fact he considered himself too low for his angel. And Pan was just so... fresh...! So... full of life...!   
The morning he had realised how alone he was, was the morning after Pan's first business trip abroad. She had just been promoted to director of her department and went abroad to a convention. She had left that very morning, very early, having convinced him not to go to the airport to farewell her.   
A day, a whole day, without the perspective of seeing her, of having lunch with her, as usual, something he'd had for what seemed ages, one single day knowing that she would not appear in his office was... more than he could bear.   
And then, just then, he realised she'd been shining on him and that he needed her, that he was addicted to her so badly that perhaps it was more than friendship and... maybe... but... it could not be...!   
That night, the first night he was conscious of how alone he'd been his whole life; he started wondering if the need for her was something more than the need for a best friend. When she came back, only two days later, just seeing her and embracing her – he couldn't help himself, he had missed her badly – he had no doubts. What he was feeling could be nothing but love. He loved her.   
Since then, as she herself had said, he had kept being the most eligible bachelor... but just outside.   
Inside him was a man who was totally in love and who was dying to stop being bachelor, inside him, his only thought was her, he missed her the second after saying goodbye, he loved her deeply, painfully.   
Slowly, he came back to reality. She had kept silent for a little while after his last question.   
"Panny...?", he asked, worried.   
"It's nothing...", she said, thoughtful.   
"Your mother's calling...?"   
"No, no...!"   
He bit his lower lip. She was not very well, she was a bit sad and thoughtful... He could tell by her voice. He wished he could see her, smell her hair, touch her soft cheeks and comfort her.   
"Panny... do you feel alone now...? Do... do you want me to come, darling...?"   
"No... I'm good... Just... sorry. I had no right to remind you that you're bored and alone... I mean..."   
He smiled softly, still concerned.   
"No, Panny, it doesn't matter! Come on!! I'm alone! And bored!! But only when I'm not with you...!"   
"Still...", came her voice, sorry, "I had no right..."   
"You did nothing bad, you hear me?"   
"But it made you silent..."   
He chuckled and imagined her face, sorry, looking to the ground, her lips showing how much she cared, her long black silky hair falling straight, hiding just a bit of her beautiful face.   
"I was just thinking of you, Panny"   
"Of me...?!", she asked, surprised. "What were you thinking of...?"   
He whispered silently. Great. What could he say he was thinking of, huh? How much he loved her? When he had realised that he was alone...? That could serve... but it was dangerous as well!   
"I was thinking that I've not always felt alone... And that I only feel alone when you're not around, Panny. So, look, maybe my life's changed after all...! I'm not the same old Trunks!"   
"I'm glad you don't feel alone when I'm around... It... it makes me feel... loved..."   
Uh, loved. If she only know how much!!!   
"You are, sweet"   
"You are too, honey!", she exclaimed, a smile on her voice, as he forced himself to stay calm, it meant nothing at all. "Well, Trunks, now I should really go... I've got things to do and..."   
Bad news, huh? He felt his heart break at the thought.   
"Yes... Go, go, I'm keeping you here... I'm sorry."   
"No, don't be! I love talking to you and you know it!"   
"But you have things to do... I'll be there in less than two hours... Shall I bring something...?"   
"No, nothing... Just a bright smile on that cute face of yours, ok?"   
"Only if I see one on yours!"   
"You could see it now, if you were in the right place..."   
"Ouch, I'm missing it!!! Wait, keep it, I'm coming right now!!", he joked, with an evil smile on his lips. He heard her laugh and smiled too, again, this time from pure happiness. It was always the same. Whenever he was aware that he was making her happy, he felt dumbly happy and couldn't help to express it. Pan should be tired of his stupid grin... "Come on, little Panny... You must go now..."   
She sighed on the phone, making Trunks wonder what her mother would like that was important enough to disturb his beloved one. Knowing that she was already late, he decided to end the conversation right there.   
"Well, Panny... See you later, ok?" he asked, not being able to hide his disappointment.   
"Yep... See you..."   
"Are you sure that you don't want me to bring anything...?"   
"Yes, don't worry! We have everything under control...!"   
He chuckled a little and whispered one last goodbye that she answered in a sigh.   
"Toran...?", she said, after a pause, when he was about to hang.   
"Yes?", he asked too quickly, delighted when he had almost convinced himself that the chat was over.   
"That... that...", she started, and he felt that she was a bit unsure of what to say next. "That... I'll miss you..."   
He couldn't help but smile. Oh, he loved that girl!!   
"I'll miss you too, darling... See you, uh?"   
"Yep. See you... Bye..."   
He answered with a murmur and looked nowhere, waiting, just waiting, until he heard her hang. Feeling suddenly the lack that he was already getting experienced to feel, he looked briefly at the phone before putting it down.   
Missed.   
Loved.   
She had said so...   
Shaking his head, he rested down and sighed.   
Their friendship was endangered... And, between a light fear, he felt a naughty completeness.   


  



	2. 2

Màrian's & Tóran's Fanfiction

Over the Moon - 2

  
  
  


Two hours... Could have been months as well...! As usual, he was barely able to work when he was missing her, but adding the nervousness of a date... he was a total mess...   
His computer had been showing the screen saver for what seemed like ages. His work... he had forgotten, not able to concentrate in anything at all. Her, her, once again, her.   
He was usually distracted since he found out about his own feelings, but never compared to minutes before seeing her, talking to her, nothing compared to the chills that the acknowledgement of her proximity, either physical or temporally, brought to him.   
A total mess... that is what he was, among with his office, his desk, his computer and the project he was working on.   
She had only phoned him minutes ago. It was Saturday and he was alone in the whole corp. Due to some urgent paperwork...   
She had phoned him.   
Closing his computer with only a movement, he stood up, took his jacket and walked out, closing his door afterwards. The paperwork would have to wait. She had lovely ruined his working session. And he was very glad of so, he had to admit. He was only fooling himself by being at his office, sitting at his desk. He was doing no good. All he could see and think of was her.   
Her call had been so unexpected... Working together, they saw each other everyday, which meant absolute happiness to him. Having to worry about whether he would see her any day or not would have driven him insane. Besides, it was obvious that she was Cc material. Being part of the family, she could have entered whenever she had wanted to, simply telling Bulma. But she deserved every single square centimetre of that office of hers.   
The office he was passing by right then.   
Smiling softly, he got in, completely silent. There was no one to be afraid of, he was the only one working on Saturday, but, still, he always felt that entering her office when she was not there had to be done in silence. He opened the door and stepped in, shyly at first. It was not his first time there at all. He had been there many more times than he could remember, alone, at night, when she was out of town, when he was missing her badly. Sometimes he just happened to pass by, like then, and entered to have her a little closer...   
She spent there eight hours a day, everyday from Monday to Friday, whenever she was not on any trip. She had decorated it herself. Her style was everywhere, the lamp, the chairs, the way she had the table settled... Giving a short glance around, he walked to the desk. The computer was closed and looked more like a suitcase than a computer at all. It was strange that Pan had left it there. She used to carry it home on weekends. Her leather armchair was half turned, as she had left it the previous afternoon when she had left towards home. She had a book on the desk, filled with some paperwork she had been working on. Sighing tiredly, he sat down in her armchair and took a deep breath.   
Her scent. It was everywhere. Her perfume... half vanilla... nah, he would never be able to describe it..! But it was something he felt from some metres afar. Maybe it was just the need he had of it, of her. Whatever it was, it was enough to make her need her more than before smelling it; it was enough to drive him insane with love and unexpressed feelings.   
How could anyone love someone so much without going crazy? In fact, how was it possible that anyone loved someone else that much?? It was not good; the pain that he felt was overwhelming him and affecting, not only his work, what he wouldn't have minded much, but his whole life. Well, perhaps that would be true if he had a life, which he had not besides his work and her.   
He rested his head back, looking to the ceiling for an instant before closing his eyes.   
She had phoned him. He was doing his paperwork. He could even remember what he was writing. First it had been the office phone. The one in his secretary's office. Since the whole enterprise was closed, he hadn't gone to pick it up, considering that it would most probably be some customer who didn't know of the corporation timetables. The phone had just ringed a couple of times before the supposed customer hung. Only two seconds after, it was his personal phone the one that was ringing.   
Her... Her voice...   
They saw each other constantly. He had only to walk a corridor to enter the department she was directress of. It took him less than five minutes. And he could see her whenever he wanted... Saying that he needed some information about the state of the department or any excuse he could have made up... Being her boss had its advantages...! His only reason for not going to see her at her office as frequently as he would like to was the fear of disturbing her.   
Well, that...   
And weekends.   
He simply hated weekends. It was something that he couldn't help. He hated everyone having two days off, every week... He shook his head no. He did not hate every one having holidays. That he didn't mind at all. However, the fact that she had them too...   
When she was working, he knew she was around. He knew that he only had to walk to see her. On the other hand, when she was not there...   
He was her best friend. Of course it would have been normal of him to phone her and ask her out, to the theatre, ballet, cinema, anything. And he did so, sometimes. But he hated the endless mornings alone, searching frantically for a reason to ask her out without making her think that he was head over heels because of her. Without ruining their friendship.   
Last Saturday night they had been to the theatre. He had bought the tickets without asking her, praying that she had no other plans. That was his biggest fear, in fact. That any day she could find someone else to go out with, someone who would not accept to be only her friend, and he would be left at home, forgotten, substituted by a new person that, in an instant, had won a land that he had been years dying to claim as his. Jealous...? Without a shadow of doubt. He was so jealous that it killed him. He was jealous at the chance of the appearance of any other guy. He was mad at the possibility of ever missing one of her smiles.   
He remembered phoning her on Saturday morning, feeling so nervous that he was literally trembling. She had picked the phone up and, cheerful, had immediately agreed. They had had dinner at a restaurant and then had gone to the play. It had been a wonderful night and had calmed for a while the thirst he had for her. Enough to live through the weekend.   
In fact, it was not so bad. Every Sunday they had lunch together, his family and hers, at the private Cc. So seeing her there was for granted. She had not missed any Sunday lunch yet, but still he asked her every Friday, just to make sure, and she asked him as well.   
The theatre, a whole week ago... He recalled the restaurant, her dress, her smile... It had been as normal as usual, no big deal, something informal, as he himself had told her, praying that she wouldn't feel scared at the idea of a serious date. And he could remember clearly almost every detail. But what he could remember the most was the feeling of uneasiness that did not abandon him for an instant through the whole evening. Uneasiness because of what he would have liked to do - treat her as a man would do, as a gentleman would do, as if they were set many years ago, caressing every detail to make her feel that he cared for her - and what he could do. He had felt rather weird the whole time. He had wanted to hold her hand when they were in the theatre. He had wished he could hold her waist when they were walking back home. Going to the play had been too much of a date for him, and not a night out with his best pal. He had felt transported, as if they were what he had always wished them to be, and had done nothing all night but wonder why they were not, and what was a friend allowed and not allowed to do.   
Uneasiness... Yep, that was that. So no more planning nights out, he had decided.   
Obviously, she was oblivious to that. Thanks God. He had considered letting her have a Saturday for her, on her own, without his omnipresent disturbance, a weekend without going out together. She had luckily decided for them both.   
The plan was to go to her house, have a light dinner she would have already cooked, and watch two films she had picked. She had sounded a bit ashamed of her plan, as if it was nothing compared to his for the previous Saturday. She had expected him to refuse it, she had told him later. She had thought that he would probably have some great ideas on what to do, or that he would have some other things to do... She had sounded so... lovely! He could not have found another way to describe it. She had sounded happy but modest at the same time... like saying... 'look, this is what I have... I know it's not much... and maybe you won't like it... but... but I want you to have it...'   
If she had been there, by his side, he would have kissed her right then. The idea of being with her all night, at her home, watching videos or whatever... he couldn't help but love it! When he had let himself believe that he would have to spend a whole day without her smile, she had phoned saying that she wanted him to go to her house to watch movies. And he could not like the idea??!   
She cared... Of course she did, well, they were after all very good friends... but...   
He opened his eyes to see the cream ceiling above him.   
She loved him. She had said it herself.   
But, just like the previous Saturday, even if it hurt, or how hard it could be, he was going to act normally. Natural. As a good friend would do. That would be all.   
Looking down, he found her digital clock on the table. It was almost six o'clock... Not very willing to leave her office yet, he closed his eyes again, thinking what he could wear. Something comfortable, for they were going to sit on the sofa for a long time, but cute, for he wanted to be attractive for her. He would have a shower and then he'd choose amongst his huge wardrobe some nice clothing. He started imagining what he could wear, mentally discarding this and that, as he realised the foolishness of his thoughts. What did it really matter what he wore? She was his friend, his best friend to that, and she had only invited him to a pals' night watching tapes. So what if he wanted to be more than a friend? They were nothing else but that and they would probably always be nothing more. He would not impress her by being nicely dressed, and that was not what he intended to do, either. Of course, he would try and be as attractive and good looking as possible, but that would get nothing at all. What he wanted from her was an everlasting love, an affect that was deep and true... Impressing girls with the way he looked like was something he only did with the secretaries, girls who would only see him, who would never talk to him out of work and who would develop some non-understandable crush on him. That, he didn't like, but he couldn't avoid it either. He had to live with that, even if he hated it. Having half of a corporation head over heels about you was something that he wouldn't have wished even to his worst enemy. Their notes, their looks, their comments, the fact that he never had time to be on his own, was enough to get on anyone's nerves.   
But Pan was nothing of the sort, and he did not want her to be either. She was more mature and responsible, so realistic that it hurt him. She was the kind of girl that would dismiss love affairs with one movement of her hand, considering them an unnecessary pain. She had a different philosophy of life, more similar to Carpe Diem but never wanting to miss the things of her, either good or bad ones. He always felt he was millions of light-years away from her, especially when she stated her opinion and seemed to be so sure about her decisions...   
She was a mystery to him, even if he had tried to understand her to the point of being forceless. He suspected that, even if they were to live their whole life together, lost in each other's eyes, he would never be able to understand her in all. He would get to really know her, which he didn't doubt, if they were to love each other forever. But knowledge...? That, he considered impossible.   
She had some surprising ideas. Like the one referring to the impossibility of man-woman friendship. Of course that she considered friendship in a much more restricted meaning. Friends, she only had one. She had told him one of those evenings out, he could remember her clearly, in a too big blue coat he had given her, for it was starting to be cold, on a beach, at night, wind blowing, swaying her black hair. He remembered asking her, fearful, something about her friends from university. When had that been? Maybe more than a year ago, he quickly measured. What he wanted to know was if there was anyone in her life, and had found no better way to ask her. She had laughed softly, looking at his eyes intently, and had answered on a whisper that she had only one friend. The boys at college were her companions. Her classmates, people she had met, people she knew something about, that was all. He had blushed at the thought that he was that important for her, but was soon distracted by something... he couldn't remember well what. Some external distraction, external to them both. Some ship passing by, or something like that. Whatever.   
Some months later, though, she told him, and reasoned it in a way that he could not refuse, that a man and a woman could never be friends. She had said that, on one hand, there were no proofs against what she was saying. And, on the other hand, if you had a true friend, it was because you liked being with him, you loved him and wanted to spend more and more time with him. To be really friends you had to know quite well a person. And that involved spending lots of time with him. In that time together, you could either hate him – what would guide you to having no friends – or loving him deeply. You could never be left indifferent when you knew a person well. If those two friends were sexually indifferent to each other, it would lead them to a strong friendship that would not be broken even if they were miles apart, always keeping a soft spot in their hearts. Otherwise, if they were both single and the other one responded to their sexual tendencies, it would eventually develop into more than friendship, either coming from one side or from both. That was, it could be that only one of them fell in love with the other, or that they both did. All the same, it meant the end to their friendship.   
He had had to accept the reasoning as good, for he could find no response. As she had herself said, there were no proofs against. And, speaking in so high terms of friendship, it implied love, doubtlessly.   
He himself was madly in love with her, his best friend. His only friend. His other pals had disappeared little by little, as the distance between them, physically and mentally, had grown. Most of them were married and had children. And the ones who were not... well, he could say that he had got tired of them many years ago. More or less, by the time when he realised of her having grown that much. When she started talking to him as an equal and not as a little sister. When she started unconsciously founding their relationship.   
And what a strange one it was. If she thought so of friendship, and if he was, as she had said some months before, her best friend, then, what place did her heart hold for him? What did she consider him? What, if they were not friends??   
She knew it, was that the answer? She knew of his thoughts, of his dreams, of his love? Or was it possible that... that she... That love she had told him on the phone of was nothing at all. Not even missing him meant a thing. She had settled his world of uncertainty by saying that single word. Friend.   
She loved him. Of course, he was her friend.   
She liked to be with him. Otherwise their relationship would have broken years ago.   
She would miss him. If you love a person, either your lover or your sibling, that you like being with him so much that you'd like to be with him some more? And is that not what makes you miss him?   
Being her friend, nothing she could ever say about her feelings towards him or what he could say about his would have any romance implication. All could be taken as part of their strong, solid and perhaps hated friendship.   
For example, to take one single and maybe stupid detail, were his T-shirts. He used to wear them at home, to train, when he had a day off. They were nice and comfortable. One day, Pan stayed the night and brought no pyjamas with her. He gave her the T-shirt with his name on it. It didn't fit her, it was baggy and too long, but he found her gorgeous in it, with a pair of shorts to match. She was even more herself, fresher... He soon realised that he loved the sight because that was what he wanted to be seeing every single morning of his life when he opened his eyes: a casual looking Pan with a T-shirt too big, that she had borrowed from him when sleeping by his side.   
That same day he had given the shirt to her, saying that it was old and that he didn't like to wear it very much when she complained, although that was totally a lie. She loved his present and showed it with such a beautiful smile that less than a week after he was flying towards her home with all his T-shirts. There was something in the fact of sharing their clothes that always made them both smile with complicity. It was like sharing something deeper, more important, but none of them had spoken a word about it. Although he knew, from the look in her eyes, that she was feeling something similar to the thoughts that crossed his mind.   
But a question always kept popping in his mind when he saw her with his T-shirts or when he saw that thy both shared anything. If they could share their clothes, time, lunch every day, Saturday evenings and Sunday afternoons, if they could share their friendship, then why had they never decided to share their soul, their lives, their reasons for living? Why, if she liked him so much that she spent with him almost all her spare time, didn't she buy the whole lot, setting him free from that killing necessity of her?   
Why didn't she love him... if he loved her that much? Why didn't they share that too!?   
Looking to the clock again, he saw that now it was almost half past six. Letting out a sad sigh, he stood up and rearranged the chair on its place. He made sure that he was not letting any clue of his stay and slowly walked to the door. When he was about to reach it, he turned around one more time to check the state of the desk. He had touched nothing at all, so nothing should be noticed... He came back one last time, to kill all his doubts, and sighed again. Worrying that much, everyday, he would die from a heart attack. And his father would follow him to the grave when seeing that a son of his had died from such a weakness.   
When he was turning around to definitely leave, still looking for any mark, he saw a piece of paper between the sheets of her book. Without opening it, he recognised the paper as a photograph. One with a purple top, all he could see, in fact. The hair of whoever it was. He smiled softly and turned to go.   
As he walked towards the private Cc, he smiled again and wondered if that sweet girl of his would ever let him stop loving her. If he would ever lose hope of her loving him.   
And, as he felt frustration because of the incertitude of the conclusions he could draw from that little photograph inserted in her book due to their ever-present friendship, he got to the bathroom, where he let the water wash all his thoughts away, to step out only thinking of his love.   
  


  



	3. 3

Màrian's & Tóran's Fanfiction

Over the Moon - 3

  
  
  


Positively, it was difficult that he ever stopped loving her. She did not hold 'a place' in his heart. She was his heart; she had placed herself in the middle of it, getting every single thought of him, making her room in his soul. There was no way he could ever escape from her, there was nowhere to run to, whenever he went, if he was ever to try to forget her, she would surely follow him, inside him, if not physically.   
He loved her. He loved his best friend, his only friend, the only thing he valued in his life. Telling her, and then being refused, as he was afraid would happen, would mean making his life a complete mess. He would not only be heartbroken, but he would have no one to talk to, no one by his side. He had thought many times of how he had ruined their friendship by falling in love with her, but he was never really aware of the consequences of ruining it. She was not his friend, but his only friend, the only one he cared for, and losing her, he would lose everything.   
That was probably the only reason he had kept silent for so long. The fact of having her, as his exclusive life was such a weakness! It made him unsure, it made him think more than once before saying a word, anything that could imply them both together.   
He had always been a rather impulsive person. In fact, there were very few times he thought twice before acting. If he wanted anything, he would simply do it or ask for it. The most usual explanation for his behaviour, if anyone ever asked, was that it was something that had to be done. Simply, and plainly, straight from the heart. It had to be done.   
Pan... He had to tell her. He should have told her months ago. He should have brought her to a separate room, at work, at home, anywhere!, made her sit down by his side, and tell her, plainly, from his heart, about his problem. Because that was what it was. A problem. A very big problem he had to deal with, even if he was finding himself unable through the years. At first, he could have thought – and he did – that it was a matter of time, that he would get used to live with his love for her. But not any longer. It was not something he would learn to deal with, loving her from his silence. He should have told her.   
What happened, then? He had to face it. He was a coward. He could not face her, he could not make her sit down, take his hand and say that he was sorry, but that he couldn't help but notice her perfection. That he had a problem, and that the problem was loving her too much. That he was going to ruin their friendship, what he valued the most in his life, because he could not bear it anymore inside.   
He had tried. Many times. But the only fact of having her looking at him was enough to make him lose any composure he could have gained alone, in front of the mirror.   
But the real causes of his silence were the risks of his step. And there were many, and important! Losing her, having her uncomfortable, preoccupied about him or even annoyed would be something he would not be able to stand. And not because she was his only friend. It was not exactly that. If he was in such a situation with some other girl, he told her, and that girl refused him, he would run to Pan to tell her, and she'd make him feel better. He needed her to go through life! She would make a stormy day look like a sunny one! She would make him smile even if he was soul-shattered. She would be able to do anything. And he would be, by her side.   
But being in love with her implied a disjunction. Either he remained always by her side, suffering the wishes of his heart silently, or he risked his safety by her side, but got to set his heart free one single time.   
Another reasoning used to intercede for telling her was the fact that those were nothing but 'risks'. It still depended on her. If he told her, it would still be up to her feelings. There was a more or less big or small chance, depending on the mood he was in, that she would answer his feelings. Then, the result would not be a broken friendship – along with a broken Trunks – but a happy and bright couple, ending in a life of joy for them both. That should make for the risks, he kept telling himself again and again.   
Yet, months had passed by since he realised his feelings, and he had never told her a word. And didn't plan to in a near future. He couldn't. He couldn't bear the uncertainty. He would probably have to live with it for a long time.   
Sighing, he made a loop in the air, hoping that his hair wouldn't end up messy. What was he going to do with that little girl of his...? How could he ease the pain, without jeopardising all they had...?   
The shower had not had a positive effect. He was still as nervous as before having it, or maybe even more. He was nearly trembling, but that was something he was used to. Her single voice was enough to bring chills along his spine. The problem was that he kept having weird thoughts. Sentences kept popping in his mind. Like ways to tell her. Like what he could say when he met her. And they were not innocent things such as 'Hi, Pan! You look nice today!'. They were more of the sort of saying hello, holding her tight and confess, without any other delay, that he loved her, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, that she meant everything to him.   
Those images were so real and attractive that they scared him. He could see him telling her, without any hesitation or preamble, what he had hid for unending weeks.   
The flight from the corporation to her house was starting to seem unending. And he was starting to mentally babble, what was too bad. He would have enough time during the soirée to make a fool of himself; he didn't need an already bad start!   
He shook his head and tried to shrug his worries off. He could almost see her house, in front of him, a few metres away. It wouldn't be long until he arrived. He thought of what she would be doing, and uselessly tried to feel her energy. He was too powered up, in order to fly that fast, to notice anything else, if that 'anything else' was not a monster trying to destroy the earth. What he prayed not to feel ever again.   
Anyway, he could imagine her laying the table or finish dressing. And he would be really having her face to face in a matter of seconds. He could wait.   
He recalled the photograph in her book. A photograph of him used as a bookmark. He wished he had seen what the book was about; only in order to know what kind of book he was a bookmark for. To know if it was one of the ever-interesting managing books from the Corporation or if it was a more personal one. To know where she had put him between...   
He noticed he was babbling again and sped up. Crazy, that's how he would end, jabbering that much!   
With a last effort, he sped up even more, to end not flying at all, all of a sudden. He simply let himself fall down the few metres he had acquired during his flight, to end floating only a pair of metres over the ground level, at her window level. There he was, at her house, right in front of one of her windows.   
He looked in; she was nowhere to be seen. It was her personal office. He floated down a bit, until he reached the ground level. He had now the glass garden doors in front of his nose, and, behind them, he could see the dinning-room. Still, no sign of her. Trying to be as silent as possible, he got in, slowly opening the doors, and tiptoed towards the kitchen.   
He wanted to surprise her, to go to her back without being noticed, and give her a kiss or anything – he'd have to improvise something – without her having a clue of his presence...   
But a hand, lightly placed on his shoulder, made him forget his intentions.   
"Mmmhm...", she said, delicately caressing his shoulder, "an intruder... What with me loving intruders...!"   
He chuckled softly and tried to embrace her, even if his back was to her.   
"Do I have to assume, then, that you are used to have many intruders...?"   
He heard her sigh, and noticed her warmth getting closer, until her body was touching his. He felt her hand embrace his neck.   
"Well...", she whispered, and he froze when he noticed the feeling of her breath on the nape of his neck, "as good-looking as you, not usually enough..."   
"But you do have some...", he insisted, more to follow a known role when he was finding himself unable to think.   
She shrugged against his shoulder.   
"You'll have to find out..." she naughtily ended. "But you better hurry up... Trunks is about to arrive...!"   
He nodded assuredly.   
"Let's hurry up, then! But... for what...?"   
"What!", she exclaimed, embracing him tighter as if to give more emphasis to what she was saying and to get more attention from him, but he only got the first part, since her proximity distracted him even more. "You don't know what an intruder has to do...?"   
He shrugged, moving her head up and down with his shoulders.   
"It depends on the intruder... doesn't it...?"   
She nodded and sighed, thoughtful.   
"Oh, yeah... I forgot I had assumed you were the nice kind of intruders...!"   
He tried to look at her face, but, as he only got to see a very little part, he got her arm and lifted it from his neck in order to give himself space to turn around.   
"I am...", he hissed, now facing her and looking her straight in the eyes. If he was tense and not thinking before, without having to look at her, now that he was face to face and only a few centimetres away from her nose, he was in total chaos!   
"Welcome, then, nice intruder...", she whispered in response.   
"Thanks... So... 'nice intruder', eh...? Can't you find any other adjective to desc...?"   
"Attractive, good-looking, hot, extremely desirable, irresistible, dream-come-true – um... that's not an adjective... but it will do the same... -, more than pleasing, comely...", she rapidly cut him off. "Just physically or you want me to give adjectives for the little I've seen of your lovely personality as well...?"   
He chuckled lightly between a hard blush.   
"No, I guess that we'll have to accept that as good... After all, I'm an intruder and you don't know me at all..."   
"Well... If that's what you want...!", she said faking sadness.   
He nodded, and touched her chin, still not letting her go.   
"Hello, Panny...", he mumbled. "Apart of having an intruder at your home, how are you, hotshot...?"   
"Apart from the intruder...?", she answered, with a grin. "A boring normal Saturday evening...!"   
"Boring...?", he asked, with a smirk. "Weren't you waiting for that... um..."   
She nodded.   
"Trunks...", she finished, sighing. "But until he arrives, it's a normal Saturday evening... By the way... you better hurry up, if there's anything you want to do to me... When he arrives, he won't like you being here..."   
He smiled and hugged her tighter.   
"Then, we better hurry up, my sweet... Is there anything special you want me to do to you...?"   
She smiled brightly, making him lose his capacity of reasoning even more simply by looking at her.   
"Um...", she sighed, and then paused. "Give me a kiss, my dear...", she finally said, looking at him in the eyes.   
He smiled as well and leaned forward to kiss her cheek, as he always did when they met. She answered by kissing his cheek as well, a known-too-well feather-kiss that, as usual, made his skin burn with longing. There was no way, he reassured himself, no way he could ever forget that, forget how she made him feel, forget what a single light touch of hers was enough to unchain his soul and his senses. He would always be unable to stop needing her.   
Slowly - yet too fast for him- she stepped backwards, breaking their hug. He followed her, almost unconsciously, to be closer to her perhaps, deafly obeying his inner urge for her proximity. If she noticed his needs or was bothered by his embrace, she said nothing at all, so he kept an arm around her shoulders while she conduced him to the kitchen, where he was silently being lead to before his princess caught him.   
"How was everything at the corporation, Mr President...?", she asked casually, turning back to look at him in the eyes, while walking a step ahead of him.   
He shrugged and sheepishly smiled at her.   
"As usual... Boring, alone..."   
He was helpless. Perhaps it was the way she used to comb her hair, or the brightness in her eyes, but that girl was enough to make him look like a mess. He tried his hardest to be nice, to be smart, to say something funny that would make her smile. He tried as hard as he could to look as the attractive and irresistible bachelor he was told to be. But there she was, turning to look at him, and perhaps it was just the light, or the clothes she was wearing, or perhaps the way her face showed between her hair, that surrounded it perfectly, but something in the sight was enough to make him a small child. A total bliss was overwhelming his senses.   
What with he having so long reproved Son Goten for being so mindless, his own niece was enough to convert him into an even more brainless man! Unable to think at all, all he was able to do was to keep that stupid grin on his face.   
Well, that... and saying the only thing his mind was able to think in such circumstances...   
"You look stunning today, Panny..."   
The blush in her cheeks only showed off the passion he had obliviously conferred to his words. She looked at the ground for an instant and then turned to look at him again, shyly, keeping her eyes down. He couldn't help but to stare at her undeniable beauty. That passion in his voice had, without any shadow of a doubt, come out of truth.   
"Thanks...", she murmured, everything in her behaviour showing timidity and happiness at once. He loved when she looked like that, pleased but not flattered, still humble but showing that the comment had touched her. She sure knew how to take a compliment.   
But he was beginning to wonder if he'd ever see anything in her that he would not love...!   
And she was not helping him to find it either!   
She smiled at him, less shy then – it was incredible that, after many years, he still had the power to get her shy all at once, when she should be more than used to his continuous amorous compliments – and pointed the kitchen with a bent of her head.   
"Do you want to help me with serving the supper...?", she asked, moving to set herself free from his embrace to take his hand between hers.   
And, still unable to think clearly and praying to be able to get a hold of himself soon, he nodded and, hardly noticing the trail of his thoughts while entering the kitchen, he pictured themselves serving supper every night to a table rounded by children... Their children.   
He shook his head.   
He'd never get a hold of himself if he was to continue thinking like that! He couldn't even reason at all!   
Oh, but – uh – he – uh...   
He could think of one thing...   
He loved her!   


  



	4. 4

Màrian's & Tóran's Fanfiction

Over the Moon - 4

  
  
  
  


He loved the way she looked, he thought when she re-entered the kitchen, while finishing setting the table. Seeing her dancing around him, singing softly, joking and laughing, while doing something as simple as setting the table was hypnotising. She showed herself comfortable around him, as usual, but that comfortableness, added to the six walls surrounding them and making them forget about any other world than that house they were sharing, was becoming even more meaningful than ever. They were alone at a house, something that rarely happened, and it was simply too easy to get used to her. Too easy to compare, hypothetically at least, what it was and would be like if they were something more. What it would be like in a few years if the best was to happen. And her behaviour showed little difference, from what he could imagine, too little variation to stop him imagining her as in his dreams, so vividly than he had been more than once tempted to kiss her, as he would do if his life was complete. Thanks god that neither of them had stopped doing things, carrying dishes, checking the meal, keeping their hands busy. Otherwise, she would have ended in his arms a long time ago.   
She reappeared, crossing the kitchen door, with her hands full of food dishes that he hurried to help her with.   
"Well...", she said, smiling sweetly through a rebel strand of hair that had had the valour of abandoning its usual place. "I guess that's all..."   
He nodded, with his eyes glued at her. He didn't want to lose any of her movements, of her reactions. He didn't want to miss one single second of her life. She shook her head to make that strand to go away, and once again the comparisons made him dizzy, wishing but not daring to, for, if they had been a couple, he would have had the confidence to take that rebel bit of hair away himself, with a soft caress... Touching her cheek, kissing softly her lips...   
Yet again, he was letting himself goo a bit too much. And, at this pace, she would end by noticing!   
"Let's eat...?", he shyly suggested.   
She nodded, and walked to one of the chairs. With a motion that he had been planning for a while, he walked to her chair and pulled it backwards to help her sit down, pretty gentleman-like.   
"Princess...", said he, offering the chair.   
She smiled surprised, opening her eyes even wider, and took seat.   
"Thanks...", she whispered, blushing very lightly, while he took seat in front of her.   
He shook his head with a grin, making her understand that it was nothing to thank him for, but a pleasure.   
He had done that several times before, in more or less expensive restaurants, in nights out because of either business or pleasure. And every time she would blush a bit, like she was then, and she would look at him shyly, obviously delighted. It was worth everything, that only look, or the way her cheeks reddened and her eyes shone on him.   
She interrupted the trail of his thoughts starting serving the food.   
"Are you hungry, sweetie?", she asked, calling his attention, what made him suspect that she was noticing of his continuous mental raving.   
He nodded, looking interested at the plate.   
"Yup, I am...! And it looks and smells so good..."   
She smiled, pleased.   
"Thanks... I hope you like it!"   
He nodded convincingly. They should had gone to a restaurant, he again regretted. He had been so delighted with the idea of seeing her when he had renounced to their Saturday contact that he hadn't thought of the work she would have to go through. It was not that she didn't know how to cook, and she had said that she liked cooking, but he felt sorry for having forced her to prepare food for them both when they could have gone out, as usual. It was not only cooking... Even with his help, which was unconditional, he felt that she had worked too hard. She needed to be more taken care of!   
"Hmm!", he exclaimed, after taking a bite of his food. "It's... delicious...!"   
She smiled doubtful, disbelieving his sincerity although he couldn't have been more true, and thanked him, while starting eating as well.   
"So...", she asked, after a short pause, while they both continued eating, "how's everything at home...?"   
"Hum...", he started, earning time to swallow what was in his mouth, "as usual... Bra is picky and bratty as usual, mother is always too busy with both father and the enterprise and father is... father!"   
"A great family, aren't they...?", she asked with a soft ironic tone.   
"The best ever!", he said, overacting. "And yours? How is it that you went to your parents' today...? Any problem...?"   
She shook her head and swallowed a bit of meat.   
"No, I just went to check out how everything was going..."   
He nodded, understanding.   
"They still miss you...?", asked in a concerned but funny voice.   
"I doubt it...!", she answered, not so pleased with the idea. "They have had time to get used to live on their own now... And no, I don't think they miss me, now that they can be by themselves again!"   
He chuckled, imagining Son Gohan and Videl as tender to each other as teenagers again only because of Pan's disappearance.   
"Lost in each other's eyes the whole day!", he graphically mimicked.   
"Yup!", she exclaimed, chuckling as well. "All day stuck together... It seems a bit ridicule, doesn't it...?"   
"That your parents love each other and show each other?", he asked, looking at her. "No, not at all..."   
"No, not that", she cut, "but the fact that they could have needed me to leave to show each other..."   
"Your parents have always loved each other... And they have showed so to everyone, in certain degree..."   
She agreed.   
"They are not more loving now than before", she said, "but I guess than having kids must be a bit... uncomfortable, at least since the kid is not a kid anymore..."   
"Yup... You didn't disturb your parents before leaving, anyway. This is different, not having you there... They must miss you, even if it's been near a year since you moved...! Although they can have more freedom, without having to tell anyone about their plans for lunch or else, they must still miss you... Imagine you lost someone you had always lived with, who you could see twenty-four, seven, to be able to see that person only twice a week, or so... You would miss him...!"   
Moreover, he thought, she was someone so full of life and bright that it had to be difficult to get used to her absence... Thinking of himself, he admitted that he wouldn't be able to bear any kind of disappearing of her from his life, as little as it could be. He would simply be shattered.   
She nodded.   
"I guess so... but I would still see him twice a week, more if I wanted to. That's pretty important, it's much more than most of the families have..."   
"And that's why they keep calling you, to talk to you, to ask you to go to visit them..."   
She had to agree once again.   
"Yes... It could be worse too... And now I have my own house, where I can do what I want to do without grandmother asking me to – well, you know her, to do lots of thing all the time! –, and with independence... You know I never had problems with any of them, not more than what are reasonable, but it's a pleasure to have your own place!"   
He nodded.   
"It's necessary, when you reach a certain age. It's good both for you and for your parents."   
She couldn't help but chuckling.   
"Haven't you reached that age yet, Mr. President...?"   
"Well...", he started, smiling shyly, "perhaps...! In my case it's pretty different... I reached that age a very long time ago... But the corporation is big enough for all of us – even for your uncle and the food he makes disappear every day, which is not a small quantity – and I don't have to see them too often... I spend my time at the corporate part of the building, rather than the private one, or with you, so I don't get to see them but at breakfast and supper... It's not so bad after all, I guess... Although I can't deny it: I'm dying to move!"   
She looked at him clearly interested.   
"You want to move...?"   
"Of course...", he sighed. "Mother is always consulting me about the state of the enterprise and some details, either if I'm working or not, like she didn't know that I don't like at all having to talk about it when I get out of the office! Then, there's father, always telling me to train with him. And Bra, well, what can I say about Bra? She is always blackmailing me for things, and telling me things about Goten that I don't want to know...!"   
She chuckled.   
"Be thankful!", exclaimed she, "you're not her best friend! I am the one who gets to know everything about uncle! And I mean everything!!"   
He made a sad face.   
"Poor Panny...", he whispered, looking at her lovingly.   
"At least I don't share their roof..."   
He nodded.   
"I should look for a place of my own...!"   
"Aha...!", she agreed. "What's the problem, then? Why aren't you leaving...?"   
He resumed eating and looked at her, sighing.   
"I have some things missing... before I can move..."   
She finished her meal and returned his look.   
"Like what...?"   
"Like dreams...", he said, shrugging.   
"You don't have dreams...?", she asked, confused.   
"Oh, no!", he couldn't help but chuckle, "I have tons of them! I'm always daydreaming, I'm full of dreams that I wished to come true... Always! I mean... you would be surprised if you knew how many times my mind is kilometres away although I may seem here... I'm constantly dreaming... And they do seem real! But what I'm lacking are the things I dreamt to have before moving... Like resolutions... The kind of 'when I am 30 I'll be married and living with my sweet wife in a house of our own'... That stupid sort of things...! Hadn't you dreams, Panny, when you were a little girl, of what you wanted to have when you were older and, say, moved to your own house...?"   
She nodded.   
"Yes... I wanted to have a family of my own... That kind of things... Is that what you meant...?"   
It was he who nodded then.   
"When you are a little kid, you imagine what you want your life to be... You want to be happy, find a nice girl, start a family, a new house... All and all, very sweet...! But... you get to your late thirties, and , there you are! No girl, no family, nothing..."   
She sighed.   
"But, Trunks... I also wanted my life to be like that...! I also imagined myself leaving my parent's house to marry my Prince Charming..."   
"So...? What happened...? Is Prince Charming hidden anywhere in this house...?" he asked, looking humorously around, making her chuckle. "You must have him very well hidden, for I, having already registered the whole house as the intruder I am, haven't found him..."   
"No, I haven't found him yet either... I'd say that he's not hidden in this house..."   
"What happened then, with your hopes? You stopped believing in dreams...?"   
She shook her head.   
"Never...! But... that will probably come. I'm still young, and I'll be for a long time... What's the hurry? I wanted to have my place, somewhere of my own, and I want a man to make me happy. Both facts are true, but they are not bounded...!"   
He nodded, defeated.   
"There's no hurry... But going to live on my own would be like accepting that I haven't got her yet... It would make me realise of my loneliness... Moreover, loneliness is another thing I want to avoid...! At Cc I have my personal space and they respect more or less my intimacy... but, if I want someone to talk to, I can always find someone around... If I moved home, I would have to live all by myself... It would be very... lonely...!"   
She smiled confused.   
"Lonely...? But, sweetheart, when do you get to have some spare time...?"   
He looked at her, puzzled.   
"What do you mean? I have pretty spare time...!"   
She nodded with a seductive smile.   
"Time you spend with me... There's no place for loneliness in your life, either if you live at Cc or not... well, but the nights on your own... And those are totally yours, wherever you were to live."   
He had to smile, a bit ashamed.   
"I don't leave you alone, eh?"   
"No!", she rapidly cut him off. "That's not it...! No...!! Oh, you didn't quite get my point...!!"   
"I did", he answered, calmly but feeling shattered inside. "I understood what you meant. But that leads me to that conclusion... If I have no spare time, then you don't have either... and... it's all because of me... It's my fault..."   
She shook her head once again, but it had no use, since he simply resumed eating, sadly absorbed by the fear of being too possessive and being bothering her.   
"Trunks...", she tried, "That was not it..."   
He raised his eyes to look at her and smiled.   
"I know... Don't worry, I've understood it. I spend all my time with you, either at Cc or out on Saturdays, like today... I wouldn't notice that much the difference between living with them or moving..."   
She sighed, nodding, and put her hand over one of his, that was laying on the table.   
"You don't bother... I love being with you as you love being with me... I... I have the feeling that whatever I say won't have any effect on you... You'll keep on thinking that you spend too much time with me and that I'm bothered by your presence..."   
He only sighed and looked at her, caressing her hand.   
"It's true, Pan...", he whispered at last. "I'm an annoyance... I'm always stuck to you as if you had nothing better to do with your life..."   
"But I have nothing better to do with my life...!", she answered, holding his hand, with growing passion. "I have absolutely nothing better to do for there is nothing better in my life... The time I spend with you is too little for me, I'm always anxious for more! I love those Saturdays out, I love when you call me and tell me to go somewhere with you... I will never have enough of you, never, so you could never annoy me. You are not a disturb, you hear?"   
He nodded.   
"But still..."   
"But still you are thinking that you should spend less time with me", she added sadly, cutting him off, with a defeated face. "I just meant... that... Great. Now I've messed all up!"   
Seeing that they both had finished eating, he stood up to clean the table. She didn't even move as he started taking the dishes away from her and carrying to the kitchen.   
"Trunks...", she called, in the softest voice, after a while. "Trunks...?"   
He stepped in from the kitchen and answered her by kneeling in front of her.   
"What's the matter, princess...?"   
She looked at him distantly and touched his chin very softly.   
"I'm sorry... I... I..."   
He shook his head.   
"I understand what you meant. And I don't believe myself an annoyance...! It was just that... I'm so afraid of disturbing you... Of getting you tired of me and... I'm afraid of you ever telling me to get lost..."   
She nodded, still caressing very softly his chin.   
"I know... I'd never tell you such a thing... I... I have never felt that you were imposing me your company... And I'll never ever have enough of you... I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't. It... I'm so sorry...! Now you'll doubt even more..."   
He smiled sweetly and, holding her hand with his, placed a feather kiss on her palm. She smiled sadly as an answer, and he couldn't help but feeling that he couldn't love her more.   
"I don't doubt... You're making it seem bigger than it is...! Let's do something! I promise you that I won't doubt about my acceptance by your side", he said dramatically, "if you promise to tell me whenever you feel you need some more time... Just tell me 'this Saturday I feel like being alone', or something of the sort, and I'll keep the distance..."   
She looked at him for an instant before looking to the ground, thoughtful.   
"That's not it...", she added after a short while, "I mean that... It's alright... But..."   
"What...?", he exclaimed, eagerly to fulfil her requests to see her happy again.   
"I... I don't want you to doubt.. so much..."   
He smiled reassuring.   
"I'm sorry... I'm so... unsure! I'm just like a little kid...!"   
She nodded with a soft smile and stared at him with an intent look.   
"Thanks for coming today...", she whispered after a silence. "I was beginning to think that you wouldn't..."   
He shook his head, leaning closer to her, and embraced her, hugging her as tightly as he could.   
"I will never have enough of you either...", he whispered, feeling chills down his spine because of her contact and because all the things she had said about them and about how she saw his presence in her life. He had not got very upset about her comment of having little free time, he knew that it was true that he spent all the time with her. She didn't need to insist that much on him not feeling sorry for having such a high percentage of her time. Even though he could feel sorry for her, for the time she was wasting because of him, he had accepted his own dependence to the hardest –and only – drug he knew a long time ago, and had learned to live with his conscience. He could not live without her, so he had had to learn to live fearing of her tiredness and refusal. That trial of hers of convincing him of the rightness of spending their time together could not have visible effects, since he could not spend more time with her although what she could tell him about how she liked his company. That conversation had only lead him to a major security on himself and a sudden tenderness towards her.   
Once again, he was feeling how they were both aligned, on phase, going together in mind and soul. Once again he was feeling the extreme thinness of the surface that was keeping them apart. And once again he was feeling dizzy, his senses overwhelmed, and his head only busy with solving the problem of that minimal separation. Analysing the previous conversation, what they had both shown in their words. She wanted to spend even more time with him. He wanted to have every second of her life. Both agreed that they would never have enough of each other. Nevertheless, they were only friends, they were nothing but sister and brother and, as hard as he tried to, he could not understand why they were nothing but that. He could not understand the reason for the existence of such a boundary, keeping each of them in an isolated world.   
Friendship getting on their way again. Burying a hand in her silken hair, he took a deep breath, making her scent a part of him. His only friend, his dearest... How he wished sometimes that she was a complete stranger! Then he could watch her pass by, call her attention, get to talk to her, and confess of his feelings without endangering that much... Of course than it would not be possible, for, if she was not his friend and he had never met her before, he would not have those feelings and there would be no reason to try to come closer to her. But how he wished he had more chances, that he could rehearse, try doing this and that, knowing that nothing was to be ruined between them because it was only a simulation...! How he wished that his life could be written and played over and over until everything was perfect, until he knew all the steps to follow to always make the real Pan happy...! And how he wished to have just once the chance of letting everything go without the possibility of losing a thing!   
Feeling that the right spot in the world for him was the one he was on at the moment, he kissed her neck very softly and prayed for that moment to last forever.   
He wished he had already said it. He wished he could tell her again that that he loved her. He wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs, to repeat it one million times. Although she would understand it in a friendly way, he wished he had had the courage to say it, letting her know of the magnitude of the feelings. Opening a small window to his soul for her to look through.   
Where she would see his inner world. Happiness, love. She would see what was to be over the moon, and she would notice what she meant for him...   
Yup, he thought, with a tiny mental grin, a window like that would be useful to end with all his doubts and self-regrets!   
  


  



	5. 5

Over the Moon 4   


Over the Moon - 5

>   
He closed his eyes, daydreaming of her once again, inspired by her arms around his shoulders. They had been for a while in complete silence, only hugging each other, she still sitting by the table, with him kneeled in front. At first, it has been only a way to try to comfort her, since she was a bit down because of what she seemed to consider a very unfortunate comment about his presence in her life. He had seen her so sad because of the apparent fear of losing him that he had needed to hold her just then, without time for second thoughts, assuring to her that she would never lose him. He needed to hold her, to make her feel better, to replace that sad look in her eyes with a huge grin, a smile or whatever but that pain. It hadn't even been a sympathetic act. He did not want to cheer her out of pity or something like that: he simply loved her so much that couldn't physically bear the thought of her not being happy. It was torture.   
Though innocent had only been his first intention. He meant to get a smile out of her at all costs, and he felt the necessity of physically warming her. But as soon as he had felt her arms rounding his shoulders and his hands had slowly walked an invisible path from her sides to her back, to, still, lay there, emotion had slowly overwhelmed him. She was his very best friend, she meant everything to him and they spent a considerable high percentage of their time together – although never enough for him! –. However, physical contact was not clearly included in the terms of their friendship, and, whenever it came, he felt dumbly blissful.   
An indescribable feeling of rightness was constantly exploding in his chest, overflowing his soul and making him unable to think. There was no need for anything more, all his worries had vanished with the somatic reaffirmation of her existence around his arms. There was not place enough in his mind to think about anything else either, other than her and his feelings, and the fact that they were slowly changing, becoming something more peaceful and calmed. Completeness was surging him over and submerging all the remains of the mess he was only seconds before. That was his place to be, she was complementing him with such an efficacy that he wondered how he could have ever lived without her. It was as if realising that he had always been lacking a half to find it all of a sudden. In fact, that was what it was indeed, or at least what he felt it to be. The way he was feeling could only correspond to having found another part of him.   
He slowly moved his arms, gently caressing her back, and he felt her smile against his cheek. He couldn't help but smile as well, and placed another feather-kiss on her neck. He wished they could fuse and be totally together, one being part of the other, so their union would never break, and that sense of fulfilment and comfortableness would last forever. With a sudden revelation, he foresaw the addiction that touching her was creating. The only thought of breaking the embrace was enough to make his heart hurt.   
She cut his trail of thoughts off with a kiss on his neck, like the ones he had given to her, that sent shudders down his spine. She was both electrical and magnetic, he thought, smiling unnoticeably again.   
Holding her even tighter, if that was possible without hurting her, he sighed contentedly. She was the only piece lacking to his happiness, and having her like he had her was amply to pretend that she was really finishing the jigsaw of his life, instead of just a friend who was a bit down and that he had tried to comfort.   
It was too easy to pretend to have walked more steps in their relationship than what they had walked yet, indeed. It was too easy to say that he cared about her faking that she understood it as the expression of his husband's deepest feeling. Holding her like that was a temptation too big for him, and it was becoming hard not to let everything loose and forget of the constrictions of his situation.   
As he felt her tighten her grip around his neck as well, he had to admit that he even, paradoxically, loved her to much to let his lures to be physical. He wanted to hold her close, to neck and caress her, to make her as happy as she could be, to cuddle and stroke as if it was nothing else for them to do in life. He was dying to wash all her worries away from her with his affect, showing how much he cared every way possible, but passion was yet to arrive. Although he could dream of her, and he had to confess to do it constantly, whenever she was around her realness was taking passion out of the scenery, to have only tenderness and love left. He wanted her badly. But simply not yet. First he wanted her to be rapturous. When he got that, the next step would come on time, as long as it did not interfere with her well-being, of course.   
Another kiss, followed by his name, in her soft voice, interrupted his thoughts again.   
"Trunks...", she nearly whispered, breaking such a long silence.   
"Aha...?"   
"Are you...", she started, and turned her head to look at him as much as possible, with her head still hidden in his neck. "Are you happy...?"   
He smiled sweetly and caressed her back again.   
"I'm always happy when you're around."   
She nodded, and he felt her smiling again, this time against his shoulder.   
"And... you aren't having second thoughts about this night, are you...?", she shyly asked.   
"No, I'm not. You would have to explicitly tell me to leave for me to think of missing this night!"   
She assented again.   
"I would never do anything that could lead me to miss your company either." She stated with convincement. "I'm sorry about the comment before... I didn't mean it to, but it could be taken as a complaint... It was just an statement of a fact... But it's a fact that makes me very happy!!"   
He couldn't help but chuckle at this comment, while a heat wave propagated from his stomach to his ears, making him blush with satisfaction.   
"I got you, don't worry...", he reassured, soothing. "My, who's the insecure now...?"   
She chuckled and raised a hand to play with his hair.   
"I'm very afraid of losing you", she whispered, and he wondered if she was realising what she was saying, since it seemed to be nothing but a thought that had escaped her mind by mistake.   
He thought of what she was saying, in absolute terms. Her words implied need of him, a need he suspected but never dared to believe. She needed him, but once again there was the doubt of the cause being their friendship or something else. He had always held a hope for her to love him back, but he was not willing to let it grow. He could always end confounded by too high hopes and hurt because of misinterpreting. And the bets were too high not to keep his head as cold as he could.   
"I can't understand it...", she sighed, after a short silence, cutting him in.   
"What can't you understand, Panny...?"   
Raising her head, she looked at him intently in the eyes for a while.   
"Insecurity", she murmured. "We are best friends, we trust each other completely. We should have more confidence in each other than most of friends out there. But instead of that, here we are, you being insecure because you fear to be taking me too much time, and me being insecure because I fear that you think that." He nodded, thinking of the sad truth that her words involved, and she rested her head on his shoulder again, making a pause. "What did we do wrong?"   
He shook his head.   
"Nothing.", he said, calmly. He knew too well what they had done wrong, what he, at least, had done wrong. She was considering him beholder of a confidence that he had failed to deserve several times. She would probably be disappointed if she knew, but he had hidden things to her, things she should know, things that were affecting his life in an amazing way. That was the reason of his lack of self-confidence in their conversations. He had not been fair to her, hiding such important information, even if it was about her, or too risky for their friendship.   
Suddenly disappointed, he looked down, resting his chin on hers. He had shown him not worthy of her friendship as soon as he had fallen for her and had decided to keep it silent. He had been a fool, not realising that their friendship was not risked, but lost, since the first time he considered the possibility of being more than friends. Perhaps she had been trying to save the boat of their link from the wreckage since the beginning, not knowing that its destiny was as doomed as his destiny itself.   
"We did something wrong...", she corrected, still playing with strands of his hair. "Otherwise, we wouldn't be doubting of what to tell and not to tell the other..."   
He nodded softly.   
"I'm sorry...", he thought aloud. "Is there something we can do to help it...?"   
She shrugged.   
"I guess so... We should stop doubting!", she said chuckling.   
He had to smile as well.   
"At least, we have cleared the time-we-spend-together subject, haven't we?"   
"Yes...", she admitted, "but I'm afraid that that's not the only one separation point between you and me..."   
"Separation point...?", he asked, puzzled by the concept.   
"Yes...", she answered, explanatory. "We share lots of points of our lives... Moments we spend together, conversations... The ones we don't share are making us act weird with each other..."   
He nodded, understanding her completely. Separation points, namely, his feelings.   
"Little by little", he assured.   
She nodded and slowly let go of him.   
"Come on...", she said after a short pause. "Let's clean the table up and watch the film, shan't we?"   
He nodded, and started to let her go as well, with a feeling of loss that only his will, out of custom, got to hide. He should be used to it, but it seemed to incomprehensibly grow even bigger every time. Her attractive, noticed from so near, when embracing her, was one of the most addictive situations, and he was very afar of being unsusceptible to it.   
"Panny...", he called her when she was about to get up, totally separated from him already. "Do you think that... one day... we will get to share every point...?"   
She smiled sweetly and kissed him on the cheek.   
"I don't think so, but we can always try...!", she exclaimed.   
He nodded and laid one his hands on one of hers, distractedly observing their hands as he did.   
"Thanks...", he said, softly, looking at her eyes for a brief instant.   
"Why...?", she asked, looking questioningly at him.   
"For...", he doubted, not really knowing what to choose between the huge amount of reasons he had to thank her for. "For this night, for always talking to me, for being my friend..."   
She smiled sweetly and cupped his cheek with a hand.   
"It is a real pleasure, my darling."   
He nodded, ashamed, and put his hand over the one on his cheek.   
"I know but... There are lots of things that I have not told you, and... you still trust me..."   
"See...?", she chuckled, "that's what we did wrong! I have also hidden some things from you, Toran. But it's normal... I mean... some things take a lot to be confessed... Don't worry..."   
With a smile, he took the hand from his cheek and slowly directed it towards his lips, where a kiss was waiting for it.   
"Anyway... Thanks, Panny. I have never had a high concept of me, but having you as a real friend helps me believe I'm not as bad as I thought to be. When I'm down you are the reason to cheer up. You know... you are so perfect, so wonderful... If you are my friend, I can't be that bad... I must be at least a bit worthy of your affect!"   
She chuckled, looking at him with such a loving look that he felt himself tremble from head to toe.   
"You don't know what you're saying...", she whispered back. "You're very worthy of all my affect... You couldn't be more."   
He shyly looked away, feeling as defenceless as a little child in her arms. He felt as if he was not much but a new-born clinging to her love, totally depending on her caresses and affection.   
She was able to get the best out of him, he thought, with a shudder. She made him want to be the best, to be enough for her. The only reason for improvement was her smile. Looking back, he could clearly see the shadow of her presence in every aspect of his life. When he had started really caring about his work – as much as he cared then, at least – she had been his reason, starting to work in the corporation and starting to have free access to the president's work. He had not wanted her to be disappointed, he had wanted to make everything as easy as possible for her at the office, and with hat on mind he had even worked extra hours, helping her to get used to the routine. When he had started training again – to his mother's surprise and his father's heart-attack – it had been her again, wanting this time not to seem an old lazy CEO. Every time he tried to get over shyness and uncomfortableness, specially when dealing with his secretaries – the part he hated the most of his work –, every time he tried not to make a fool of himself when talking to any important people, her again. She was the reason. She was what made his life and efforts have sense.   
He wondered what better description of love there could be.   
"You make me want to be better...", he thought aloud, not realising until it had been said.   
Looking up to her, feeling a bit dizzy because of his boldness, he saw her smile shyly and blush, obviously pleased.   
"You make me want to be better too...", she answered, very softly, and, slowly, got up. "But you are the only one that makes me insecure as well...!"   
He smiled cutely and got up, inviting her to do so. In a short while they had resumed cleaning the table where he had left the task, gathering the few dishes let and carrying them to the kitchen. Ecstatic, although she did not seem to notice the constant grin in his face, he hurried to finish the cleaning to go to the sofa to watch the film, where he would be close to her again. 


	6. 6

Over the Moon 6   


Over the Moon - 6

> "Shall I turn the lights off...?", she asked, as he sat on the sofa.   
He shrugged, silently praying for her to do so.   
"It's up to you..."   
A sound coming from her informed him that she had chosen to turn them off, just before seeing his world go black. Ecstatic, he rested back on the sofa, holding his pop-corn bowl. Life was just perfect!   
He heard Pan's soft steps heading towards the sofa he was sitting on, through total obscurity, and trembled in anticipation of her presence. Looking around, waiting for the smallest sign of her closeness, he happily greeted the shade. There was a reason for him to prefer lights off, although it was a not very mature one: he just loved having her in the darkness, by his side. Obscurity added even more magic to the situation and showed up her attractive as well. It was something about the way in which her figure was shown from time to time because of a casual movement or a capricious reflection, or they way her face looked in the darkness, but he result was always the same: in the darkness, when she was oblivious to his gaze, he would find himself unable to stop staring at her, finding his eyes glued to every move she made.   
He felt a pressure grow next to him on the couch as she sat down, a few centimetres away from him, enough nevertheless to avoid any physical contact.   
"Here...!", she exclaimed as she made herself more comfortable. "Now... let the fun begin!"   
He chuckled almost imperceptibly, with an evil grin that he couldn't help in his face. Of all the kind of fun that they knew, he could only think of one very particular, in the darkness, on a sofa.   
Of course, as she proved herself with the remote control on hand, she was thinking of turning the tape on. Smiling, he took some pop-corn and looked at her through the shadow. Her face, lightened now thanks to the TV screen, was showing a concentrated Pan, looking at something on her lap. Her hair, that she had let loose, was partially hiding her face as she was leaning, while her eyes, looking down, reflected the blue screen with renewed intensity. Definitely, although not being able to describe what was it that made her so irresistible in the darkness, there was something about it that hypnotised him. Longing for her contact, he felt the urge of touching her cheek, caressing her soft skin just to know if she was for real.   
He often wondered how it was possible that a girl like her existed. In fact, he did not doubt of the coherence of her existence, that was not the object of his wondering, but how it could be possible that a girl like her was wasting her time that way with him.   
The truth to be told, he felt he was not worthy of her. As she had told him a few times, it was nothing but a little inferiority complex that nearly every lover suffered. The object of their admiration is always perfect to them, they hardly ever see any defect on them, although the deficiencies could be numerous. Of course, when she spoke those words they were just talking about general love, as they used to do sometimes, without any implications neither from her side or from his.   
However, he couldn't help but feeling rather undeserving of her. She was much younger than him, his best friend since she was not much more than a kid, his worker and almost a family member. Leaving apart her personals merits, that were not scarce, only because of having fallen in love with her he felt that he was betraying her confidence. Besides, being such a mess either at work and home, having all those girls after him, pursuing him as a cinema star and being always somehow able to make him look like a fool... No, the truth was that he could never consider himself worthy of her time.   
That was the most probable reason because he needed to touch her that often, feel her hand against his in a graze that could look as completely casual, see in a physical way that she existed and was there with him.   
As the screen called for their attention with a growing music, announcing the proximity of the start of the film, he slowly moved his eyes from her to the television and back to her. She noticed the movement in the corner of her eye and looked at him too, with a smile.   
"Pretty...!", she exclaimed, making him thank the shade as he blushed a deep crimson.   
"You are pretty indeed, Panny!" he answered with a huge grin. "The most wonderful woman ever!"   
She chuckled very lightly and he felt a warm wave passing through him as her hand grabbed his, touching it gently, with fondness.   
"You should go out more often, darling...", she stated matter-of-factly. "You're losing the little criteria you had gained through the years!"   
He shook his head no and looked at her intensely.   
"In a few years with you I've learned more about what perfection means than in all my previous life", he said, straight from his heart, making her laugh at his passion. Nevertheless, the pressure in his hand, that she had intensified right after his comment, was enough to tell him that her feelings were much closer to the pleasure than to the laughter, what made him smile very satisfied.   
"See...?", she started, but he recognised instantly the faked resolution in her voice replacing her emotions. "You need to meet more people...! I'm afraid I'm making you lose your impartiality...!"   
He shrugged and looked at the television for a second before answering her, while his mind weighed up the possible choices for an answer and the results that each of them could lead them into.   
"What should I need impartiality for...?", he asked, opting for the easiest way to answer her question remembering the golden rule for press interviews: difficult questions are answered with other questions.   
She knew the trick too, he realised as soon as she opened her mouth to answer him.   
"Excuse me, Mr. Briefs! You know, I could have imagined an answer of the sort...! Always taking the easy way out...! Well, perhaps you'll need impartiality to judge people as they deserve!"   
"Hey! I do...!", he hurried to protest.   
She looked at him questioningly and resumed watching the ads on the screen.   
"Pan...", he tried after a short silence.   
"Hmm?"   
"I'm sorry... I didn't mean..."   
She nodded.   
"I know. Look... the film's about to start..."   
He looked at the screen and sighed.   
"I do not always take the easy way out..."   
She assented, letting go her grip on his hand to substitute it with a caress.   
"No. Just when coming to important things. The rest, you like to make it a bit too difficult!"   
He looked at her again, slightly peeved.   
"You think so...?"   
She nodded.   
"Sometimes."   
"Like...?", he asked, intrigued.   
"Like that with still living at your parents'... Taking into account that living with your parents includes sharing your roof with both your sister and brother-in-law, I can't deny that I'm very surprised to see that you're not desperately looking for lodging...!"   
He chuckled and touched her hand lovingly in response, shrugging off the little annoyance that her previous words had caused.   
"I will move", he answered. "I'm dying to. But... I just haven't found the right place yet."   
One last time, she looked at him, this time with a mischievous brightness, before focusing on the film, the first chords of the soundtrack of which were starting to invade the air they shared, getting their attention momentarily and making them forget about their conversation.   
As usual, their silence only lasted for a few minutes, before they started commenting the movie, characters and situations that most of the time were a bit too out of a real scenery to be accepted by the couple without further commentary. It might be not too respectful for the staff of the film, but it was certainly very constructive for both of them, as well as the best way they knew of for enjoying it. Only a few films had ever got to keep them silent out of interest, and this had all the numbers for not to enter that group.   
As difficult as it was for them to remain silent, or even more, was for Trunks to keep his hands out of her. Sitting by her side, with the pop-corn bowl they were both eating from on his lap, he had to gather all his strength several times for not to touch her any possible way. He had never realised before of the width and length of that sofa. It was huge! They were both comfortably sitting, with their feet on the cushions, half laying. If the sofa had been normal-sized they should be either touching each other, shoulder against shoulder, or not so comfortably resting. Nevertheless, Pan was what he considered kilometres away from him, and their only contact were their hands. Therefore, the sofa was way too big! In their house, they'd have a very tiny sofa, just enough for them both to be comfortable, but no wasted room! They would have to hold each other very closely to have space enough! Hmmh!   
He couldn't help but smiling very softly at his childish thought, though it was enough to make her turn to him, her eyes attracted by the movement. Smiling wider, he made her assume that it was because of the television, getting her to focus on it again after getting another smile from her lips.   
Still considering the dimensions of the sofa, that doubled what his selfish lover's mind considered optimal, he wondered what he could do to get to embrace her without it being too evident. He had watched too much television to ignore some of the most used tactics, but all of them were unworthy of the queen that was sitting by him, sporadically eating handfuls of pop-corn and whispering observations about what they were watching. No, passing an arm around her shoulder with any made out excuse would be like betraying her confidence, nearly an insult for her perfection. He could use no justification, since there wasn't one valid, and simply holding her was something that he could not physically do because of the pop-corn bowl on his lap. He had to resign, therefore, to spend the night without touching her, what rarely happened on their nights out. In the cinema or the theatre he would hold her hand as soon as the lights turned off, or even sooner if he dared, and afterwards, walking together, he would offer his hand, that she'd surely accept...   
Frustrated, he sighed and rested his head backwards, only to feel an uncomfortable form against his neck that he didn't recognise, not being a part of the couch he was lying on, until the last part of it caressed her cheek with silky fingertips.   
Pan...? Pan's hand... was... nearly around his shoulder...? Had she really put it on the cushion just some centimetres over his shoulders and the base of his neck...?   
He suspired satisfied, feeling peace return to his mind, and inclined his head closer to her, making her arm move down until the fabric of her sleeve was against the base of his neck. More comfortable, he closed his eyes, oblivious to the film, focused only on enjoying the feeling of her silken fingers against his cheek until she made him come back to reality with a soft giggle, immediately followed by a kiss on his cheek, on the edge of his lips.   
"I wonder why you accepted coming to watch the film...", whispered she after a short pause.   
He opened his eyes and smiled, trying to appear calmed although he was trembling because of her closeness and her breath on his cheek.   
"You should have known that the last thing I would mind would be what we were going to do..."   
She sighed and embraced him, resting her chin on his forehead, what made him rest his head on her chest.   
"I guess I should... But I thought you'd like to watch that movie..."   
He shrugged and held her closer by embracing her with the only free hand that he was left.   
"I would... if you weren't here..."   
"It's like losing our time...", she cut him in, thinking aloud and expressing perfectly both their feelings on that matter. "Shall I turn it off, then...?"   
"Yeah...", he nodded. "I just want to be like this for a while..."   
The next he noticed was the sudden silence coming from the television, just before his eyes were blinded by the unexpected light of the auxiliary lamp beside the sofa that Pan had turned on.   
"Just like this...", she sighed, embracing him again, hiding his face on her neck. "It'll be a pleasure!"   
He agreed with a happy sound, relaxing against her shoulder.   
"Don't you hate me...? You've prepared everything and I just ruin it...!"   
"No...!", she exclaimed, convinced. "You aren't ruining anything!"   
"But...", he objected, "I've crushed your plans..."   
"Nah!", she cut him off. "They were nothing to be sorry for! Besides, we can always watch this film some other day... I only intended to spend this evening with you, that's all. What does it care what we do...?"   
He had to assent with her. Their occupation was the less important of the soirée, since it didn't affect too much their happiness. Therefore, although feeling sorry for having sundered a night she had planned, seeing that he was the one who usually planned it and she had never complained, he had to acquiesce with her about the lack of importance of their entertainment.   
"I'm sorry...", she added after a pretty long silence. "It wasn't a good idea... We should have gone out... But I was rather in a hurry... you seemed to have forgotten about me, and I wanted to make the first step for once before one of those companions of yours got a bead on you...! However, there was no special place I wanted to go to... so..."   
He shook his head.   
"No...! Don't worry, it's been one of the best nights I've ever spent! And I love being here... I love your house, I love being your guest... I envy you, Panny...! This is all so nice! Thanks a lot for inviting me. Really. I love it here."   
She shrugged it off and kissed the top of his head.   
"My pleasure!"   
No, he thought, naughtily, kissing the soft skin of her shoulder and feeling her firm grasp around him. His pleasure. Really!   



	7. 7

Sin título

Over the Moon - 7 

By Màrian   


Silence, only disturbed by the soft sound of their rhythmic and nearly identical breaths, hers over his hair and his caressing the smooth skin on her shoulder, was very afar from being uncomfortable. As far as it could have been, indeed. The lack of conversation was not in this occasion a symptom of being wasting their time, as it so usually was with other people, but the opposite. It was the unmistakable indicative that they were both enjoying each other's simple presence, not needing anything else.   
That silence was speaking more about them both than any other parley. It was telling about the commodity that they both felt having the other near, of the lack of needing of any other thing to be well. It was speaking of friendship and murmuring of mutual affection.   
Needless to say, he, from his 'boy in love who loses his poise' point of view, could not see hear at all that susurration. For him, life was wonderful and it was hardly possible to be happier than between her arms. It was almost too much for him to feel all that bliss and he was too busy being happy to wonder what she was thinking about. So, too occupied with the joy of her closeness, was she bored, he would not have been able to tell, even though he insistently asked himself so.   
Absent-mindedly, not conscious of his owns acts, he caressed her arm over her sweater with his free hand, the one that was not encircling her waist. The sleeve was pulled upwards by his stroking, leaving a part of her wrist uncovered. It was a sky blue top, with a low collar, very fine to the touch. It was not one of his T-shirts, as he had imagined it would be, but she had groomed herself better for the event, not losing a bit of her beauty in the change, only gaining. Those T-shirts of his, which collection he increased from time to time, buying some ex profeso, were of his like more because of their connotations than because of their appeal. Seeing the girl of his dreams in such a casual dress, that informal, than intimate, was a dream itself. And, even when the shirts were not very special, knowing that they were his was enough to make him feel closer to her, in a way.   
The sensation of intimacy, though, was not enough to take away his good judgement and it was undeniable that she looked much better with the clothes she was wearing, more feminine and better dressed, with that skirt showing off her beautiful legs – that he was able to see only turning his eyes, flexed below him, with her feet on the couch, perhaps too much of them exposed for what was good for his self-control -, even though the fact that he chose his T-shirts taking into account what would suit her better or that he lied when saying that they were old. The clothes she was wearing made his T-shirts nothing to be compared to.   
He though, resting his forehead against the cloth, how he would love to stop all that fake and worry about her acceptation. He wished he could arrive at her house, kiss her on the lips, caress her sweetly and give her some present much more personal than any T-shirt. He wished he was able to tell her that he loved her without having her thinking of their friendship when doing it, able to show her his passion and affection, without any fear, without taboos, with nothing else than time around them both, wrapped around them, with infinite patience. To be quiet, like they were than, but entwined, indistinguishable, for hours in a house that belonged to them both, wherever it could be, even at the Cc, but together. Although he could not like his own house that much, even if he wished he didn't have to live with his sister and her clever husband, if they were together and she accepted to live with him, his house would be heaven, with her by his side.   
Her hand, slowly stroking his cheek, got him out of his inner world, making him blush perceptibly. Her fingers were travelling incessantly over his face, tracing invisible ways that were making him shiver when she redrew them, centimetre after centimetre. He closed his eyes, abandoning himself to the sensation of her fingertips on his flesh, and smiled, knowing that she would notice because of the movement of his cheek.   
"Do you like it...?", she asked, rhetorically, in a whisper, finally breaking their silence.   
He nodded, convinced, and the hand that was around the girl's waist gently rubbed her back.   
"How cute you are...", she dreamily murmured some instants after.   
He withdrew himself from her close embrace, in order to look at her in the eyes for a moment, and leaned closer to her face afterwards, sitting up on the couch, to give a sonorous kiss to her cheek.   
"You are cuterrrrr!!", he exclaimed against her peach-like skin.   
Pan smiled, contented and happy, closed her eyes, resting her head against his, and the silence came back for another while. Life was simply perfect and he could not help but feeling immensely fortunate.   
It was not such a big deal, if he was to coldly think about it. Even though in public they behave as normal friends, just like him and Goten or her and Bra, but with, perhaps, more confidence, for they both told each other everything, without any of the filters that they self-imposed when they were around her uncle and his sister, on being alone that constant contact had long ago become a custom. Looking through it from a very rational way, he could explain their behaviour as the logical following step to their total trust, nothing else but one step farther, a step composed of several infinitesimal and punctual tiny advances. Advances that were nothing but the result of small acts out of courage, carried out by one of them, being himself more frequently the responsible, advances taking the form of constant murmuring and, later on, entwined hands in the darkness, in the cinema. Timid and fearful first times that, little by little, were becoming something they got used to. As if every time that he caressed her or kissed her cheek when saying goodbye he was pulling a spring farther than its maximum flexibility helplessly in his favour, making their contact more and more comfortable each time. He imagined that there would be a point where the contact would be finally enough to break the metaphorical spring. Then their feelings would come to light, more or less violently and more or less agreeably for both of them.   
But, whom was he kidding? Even though he could force himself to think in a cold and rational way... nah, he would let them for her! When she was near, logic fell, discarded, not being valid any reasoning. Yes, he could believe all that being alone, in his bedroom, at his office... but not at her home, not with her by his side, not that way. When distance was that short, there was no mind. Any reasoning that could tell him that his feelings would end by emerging, sooner or later, was useless. When the need of her was unbearable, the future had little meaning and there was only a possible present. The moment that those necessity and urgency grew too big, he would just let himself go and it would be him who told her of the feelings that had long ago overwhelmed him. He just wished he knew when it would be and which events would follow it. That was to say, past and future of a so long wanted fall.   
He rested his head again against her shoulder, feeling the cloth against one cheek whilst the other one was travelled up and down by Pan's smooth hand. Feeling that comfortable and protected, he lost his own mind's control for enough time to find himself, when recovering it, thinking anew of her children. Her, they hadn't even to be his. Her children... He felt envy toward the not yet conceived offspring, because of the relationship that they would have with their mother. Because of the way she would always love them, how she would hug them and kiss them. How, some day, one of them would be holding the place that he was then occupying, with his princess's hand fondling him, drifting him to sleep, making him feel safe and warm. When he was nearly convinced of its impossibility, he found that envy could be good as well. He wanted that for her kids, it was the wish of sharing that with other people that had carried him to imagine the hotshots, either than the possible menace that those children could mean for him. Jealous, he was, of those kids that would doubtlessly be the most adorable in the whole world? Never!   
A premature question filled his mind for some instants, spinning around and around. He was tempted to ask it to her, but he withdrew many times when he was about to make it. He did not dare, he was afraid that it was uncalled, that it could make her suspect of his chain of thoughts. If he could only make it part of a path of thought that was, as much as possible, innocuous!   
He ruminated, looking for a suitable context. On his own, he was not able to answer it, and he needed to know what her opinion was on that matter. He could always wait for another chance, to ask her, when talking about little kids was more recent, even though he could hardly resign to be patient.   
Obsessed with finding the scenery, her motherhood came back to his mind and this time he realised that he could not hold any doubt about the children's father. In the current situation, that was very likely to be kept stable for quite a long time yet, he was the one and only candidate. And it was not only the only candidate, but also the relationship that they had made them reliable enough to afford such a luxury. As long as there was no other man around her – chance that was filling all his fears although, as he himself very well knew, with no basis –, it could be no other way. Looking at it straight and emotionless again, and following the previous reason, it was quite probable than the future that he so much dreamed of became reality.   
So was it that, in conclusion, he was in an optimistic mood that day that was little usual on him. He believed, and that was not something he did frequently at all, that their relationship held a future, a real one, past his utopian dreams. Definitely, very optimistic!   
She made him feel that she had noticed so with a smile against his hair while her hand kept on drawing on his skin.   
"You are pretty happy today, eh...?", she whispered tenderly.   
He assented, sighing satisfied.   
"Yes...!", he dreamily exclaimed.   
"Good news...?", she asked, as if sighing as well.   
"No... Nothing in special... It makes me happy, to be here, with you..."   
She nodded.   
"Me too, hotshot, me too...!"   
Sitting up again, he looked at her in the eyes.   
"How cute...", he couldn't help but murmur, staring straight to her big black eyes, that shone in the semi-darkness. In fact, he did not realise his own words – and of the fact of repeating himself – until the sounds abandoned his lips.   
She blushed, half uncomfortable, half pleased, and shook her head.   
"Dumb...", she purred, with a voice that clearly indicated that the least she was trying to do was to insult him any way. He, knowing so, answered with a sweet smile and moved a naughty strand of black hair away from her face.   
"Don't believe it if you don't want to...!", he exclaimed, almost inaudibly. "Me, I don't know what to tell you so you know how pretty you are...!"   
"Nah...!", she answered, implicitly asking for a change on the subject.   
He observed her still for a while, wondering what would unchain the confession that he had wished to make the most in his life, with the only purpose of making the process faster. Knowing them, it would probably be nothing that special; nothing would happen that would make them be sincere with each other. Knowing them, it would be as natural as if nothing was happening, although meaning a whole world.   
"What are you thinking about...?", he finally asked, as he was playing with the strand of her hair that he had put aside, slowly curling and twisting it between his fingers.   
She moved her free shoulder up, inclining her head towards it, and shook her head.   
"Nothing in particular... I'm afraid my mind is thinking on its own will..."   
"I hope...", he cut her in, with a playful smile, "that it had nothing to do with work...!"   
She laughed softly and shook her head decidedly no.   
"Of course not! You bet...!"   
"So then...?", he insisted. "What...?"   
She shook her head again.   
"Nothing..."   
"What...?", he repeated, more insistent each time.   
"Unimportant things....! I've told you, I've relaxed the control of my thoughts, and they were floating on their own..."   
He nodded.   
"They're the better thoughts. The most spontaneous... What...?"   
She chuckled at his insistence and gave in.   
"I was thinking about the house... considering what's for and against it..."   
He looked at her, lowering one eyebrow, wondering what sense her sentence had, a bit deceived when seeing her busy with thoughts that were so afar from him.   
"Against...? Don't you like this house...?"   
She shook her head in response.   
"That's not it... I haven't found any reason against it... But I haven't looked through it very objectively either... And... objectively... well... there are some problems, indeed..."   
He shot an even more confused glance at her.   
"Are you thinking of moving to another house...?"   
Unconsciously focused on her mouth, he saw how her lips formed a thoughtful expression and, having been less distracted with the conversation, it would have been rather difficult for him to help but caress them.   
"I've been thinking about it...", she answered after a pause. "I've been thinking about it, but... I don't know... I like this one a lot, but... I don't know...."   
He shrugged.   
"Panny... I don't understand you, you know...?"   
She nodded and couldn't help but smiling.   
"I'm sorry... It has its logic... but I'm explaining just tiny bits to you and..."   
"You don't want to explain it all to me...?", asked he, a bit worried.   
She nodded.   
"Sorry... It's not that I didn't want to... I was not considering what was for and against this house... I was considering what was for and against of living here on my own..."   
He nodded as well, understanding her a bit better then. He sketched a smile that was cut off by her intense and decided look.   
"No. That was not it either. I was weighing... what was for and against... And don't take it the bad way, eh? Don't feel obliged or anything... I've already told you, they were just floating, and..."   
"Pan", he interrupted her. "What."   
"I was thinking of the benefits and drawbacks that would carry the fact... that... you came to live with me, here."   
He looked at her speechless, his eyes open wide, as his illusions started flying to the sky.   
"Are you saying...?"   
She slowly shook her head.   
"No... I would love you to come, but I'm not saying so... I've told you, I was weighing the possibility..."   
"But you've said that there were things against...", he anxiously broke in.   
"Not subjectively", she answered. "You know that we would be very good here, together... We are the closest of friends; we are very comfortable with one another... You were not expecting me to ask you...?"   
"No...", he sincerely confessed.   
"Well... I have thought about it... a few times..."   
He nodded, trying to hide his surprise. She had thought a few times of having him living with her? Why hadn't she told him before?   
"I... I didn't know... Why... hadn't you told me...?"   
"Because I always conclude the same thing..."   
He looked at her, waiting for her to go on, intuiting that her next answer would include a more or less hidden 'it can't be'.   
"Subjectively, it would be great...", she went on. "But, if you look at it from an objective point of view..."   
"It can't be", he cut her in, before she had the chance of saying such a hurtful remark.   
"It could be", she corrected. "It could be... but... I... there would be some problems..."   
"Which problems...?", he asked, curious. "Our parents...? Cc...? Publicity...?"   
"No...", she assured. "Your parents, perhaps... Everything else, I couldn't care less... But... let's say that I have my own reasons, ok...?"   
He observed her, wishing with all his heart that he could ask her of her reasons and that she answered him without any shame or fear. Nevertheless, he knew that he shouldn't even want to know them, if she did not tell them to him willingly.   
"So...", he tried, slightly dropping the subject. "That's the reason why you've thought of moving...?"   
"No... It would change nothing. At all...", she murmured, shooting a quick glance at him. "You want to come to live here, don't you...?"   
Before answering, he decided to think twice what he would say. She found some problems into it. Saying that he did not find any was a bit temerarious.   
"Of course I want to come to live with you...! I hadn't thought of moving here now, to tell you the truth...", he lied. "and I guess that I also had my reasons for not to think about it. This is your house, it would be some kind of invasion of your personal space... I don't think that I could be comfortable knowing that I would ruin your intimacy... I do also have my reasons, see...?"   
She shook her head slowly.   
"No, you wouldn't ruin my intimacy... It's not that, Trunks, it's not that at all... I'd be as comfortable as I'm now if you came to live here with me. It's not that."   
He studied her, intrigued although not allowing himself to insist. If he moved there she would lose freedom. She could not do certain things. And perhaps she'd be comfortable with him around, but he probably wouldn't, living with her. There were certain things on the daily life that could lead him to lose control momentarily more than once. He knew he was not ready to deal with such amount of close contact, since it would be like living together... but not in all. They would spend lots of hours together every day, and that would most likely precipitate an end that could be more or less painful. Moreover, knowing that she was in the next room, sleeping, having a shower or reading was something to what he would perhaps, and only perhaps, get used to without constantly visiting her.   
"I've not hurt you anyway, have I...?", she asked, taking him out of his thoughts. "I don't mean that I would not like to live with you... It would be great...! I've thought about asking you when you've told me that you wanted to move... but I've judged that it was not a good idea... Now... I was trying to give another chance to the concept, for I would love you to live with me..."   
"But you couldn't...", he ended.   
"No, there are still some things in the middle... But... it's not because of you, you know? Don't get sad or angry or nothing of he sort... eh?"   
He smiled reassuringly.   
"No, don't worry. I see."   
She smiled as well in reply, telling him without any word that she believed him and that everything was just fine between them both.   
"I don't want it to be... like this...", murmured she, so softly that, not having been looking at her, he wouldn't have understood her.   
That way... which way? What did she mean with that?   
He questioningly looked at her, but she didn't realise. Silence grew between them again while he went over and over the last sentence. That way? What did she want to be changed? Perhaps she did not want them to move together being the way they were then... as friends? Maybe that was it, she did not want them to move together being friends, but... No, he was jumping into conclusions too fast. It was him who wanted that, not, as far as he knew, her. He did not want to go to live with friend-Pan but with lover-Pan. Of course that from her words it could be extracted that she wished some kind of change in relation with what they then had, and he could not think of much changes but that one. If that was not what she wanted to change, he had no idea about what it could be. Her job? Her timetable? No, all that was already optimised. She liked her life. Otherwise, knowing her, she would not take too long to change it after having taken the decision of doing so. Was there, then, some problem with him? There wasn't, was there? She would have told him... Yeah...   
Sighing, he decided to drop the subject. He would get nowhere. And to insist would be like betraying her. If she needed to tell him, she would. To question her in order to get more information would be inappropriate for their relationship. And it would leave him uncovered by making very obvious that he needed to know her opinion about him. No, no, in the end, any farther question about it had no sense. Even though wondering what she would like it to be like after the change was to be something that, he was certain, would keep him busy on the insomniac hours of the following nights.   
Once again, it was her who took him out of his concentration.   
"What do you think about it...?"   
He shrugged with a smile.   
"That you have your reasons and that, though I'd love to come to live here with you, I don't think it's a good idea either."   
She nodded and hugged him, hiding him on her shoulder again.   
"Do you think that... some day...?", she asked with a small voice.   
He nodded, hugging her tighter, and wondered if he would notice when the reactions that would lead them to be together started to release or if, on the contrary, the process that would join them had started long ago without any of them realising. Just how afar they were from heaven?   
"I love you very much, Trunks...", she whispered, hiding herself on him. "A lot..."   
A shiver passed through him and, before realising what he was doing, he found himself looking for her lips as if they were water in his desert.   
"I do love you very much as well, Panny...", he purred before their lips met.   
His heart, beating in his ears, made him lose a great part of the perspective of what was around him. The only think that he got to consciously notice were her eyes, intensely staring at him, with a surprised brightness, and her rapid breath on his skin. After perceiving that, her lips got all his attention, capturing his very softly for some instants. It was a short and nearly innocent kiss or, at least, it was innocent from his side. Despite having lost control for long enough to find himself millimetres away from her without realising, his mind got hold of himself sufficiently for making that kiss a chaste and friend-like one, only misplaced. Obviously, that was not what she had in mind, and that realisation made his stomach jump with emotion. She had took his lower lip between hers, forcing him to open his mouth, and had kissed him as he had always wished she would, a quick, reliant peck. Not enough to be remembered as their first one, maybe – though he doubted that he could ever forget it – but not a common thing in his life either.   
While he drew back his face from hers, not yet believing what had happened, his eyes opened out of instinct only to find a smiling Pan that was observing him with an expression that he incorrectly took as uncomfortableness. It was not until she passed her hand behind the back of his neck, attracting him closer to her again, that he did not understand her face. He hid on her neck, just like seconds before, and smiled happy.   
It had not been uncomfortableness. It was, and his stomach jumped again in his abdomen, hunger. Hunger. Hunger!   



	8. 8

8 **Over the Moon** _By__Màrian_

  
Closing his eyes and hugging her tight, he sighed. That kiss had been an important first step. His lack of control had taught them something new that for him appeared more attractive than anything he had tasted before. He had wished for that for years. He had imagined that coming out a thousand different ways. And, although shy, he felt then as a child that discovers the flavour of sweets. The first string of the few left pulling them apart had been cut, and his self-control weakened. If it depended on him they would run to a church at that very moment. It was not as if he hadn't thought about it! 

Nevertheless, while the warmth of the contact that her mouth, against his, had left on his skin was evanescing, to bring him back the environmental temperature, he felt loss, hidden in his chest. He had kissed her. He had kissed her and... strangely enough, the world had not broken down. That much time expecting it, wishing, having to stop himself.... and it had not even been... especial. He loved her, he adored her, and this conscience made him find the reasons for his sadness. She was the centre of his world and the only sense in his life was to make her happy. If, as it seemed, he was the chosen to love her and honour her for the rest of their life, he ought to make sure that he accomplished it. In other words, that he wanted to do all that, if it was him who had to, special. Too much he knew her to lose everything because of avoidable mistakes. And, though she was not perhaps the most romantic girl in the world, or, at least, that he had never seen that part of her, that did not mean that a bit of attention did not make her feel special. He could see it in her eyes. He wanted her to be happy. Show her how much he loved her. Make her feel loved. And that was a problem, in a certain way. For, what should he choose, the spontaneous and sincere love declaration, just like it poured from his heart, what would be proper for them, having in mind the intimacy they shared, or, on the other hand, a more prepared and organised beginning, what would make her feel how much he cared...? He would choose the second one without too much hesitation, but he ignored how long it would take him to be able to carry such a preparation out... and to plan it too much, otherwise, would belittle its meaning and spontaneousness. Of course that... what was he doing worrying about how to tell her if there were still centuries left until he got enough valour to let her know? Needless to say, he had never brushed her lips before – and how sweet they were, so smooth, so desirable, addicting him more to her if that was possible – but probably, and knowing them, that change would mean nothing in short. Therefore, there was no reason to worry! Nothing had drastically changed between them for years. In fact, as long as he could remember. If he had to come out with a plan for making her his... well, he would... when the moment grew closer... wouldn't he? 

Doubting once again. Though he would rather always be in doubt hugging her like at that moment. It was much more comfortable than doubting, as he was so used to, in bed! 

A satisfied whisper from her brought him out of his inner circuit that, all and all, he knew so well. He tightened his grip around her and made a light kiss on her neck. How strange they were...! And, in the end, what had that kiss that had accidentally left his lips meant? Where did that leave them? What did it mean for her, what was the hunger that he had seen in her eyes supposed to be? Too excited to fall asleep in her arms, too shy to ask her any questions, he only moved his head delicately from left to right, caressing her while doing so. She laughed softly and ran one hand through his hair, messing it. 

"Am I tickling you...?", he asked, letting her go a bit to look at her. 

"Yes... but... they're not exactly tickles..." she answered. 

"I know...", he conceded. "But do you like them...?" 

Her answer was a total nod. 

"Listen here, hotshot...", she asked after a pause. "Why don't you come live here...?" 

He looked at her, very surprised. 

"But... hadn't you just said that... you didn't want me to...?" 

She nodded. 

"Yes, I know that I said no... that I had my reasons... But the truth is that I can't find one single acceptable reason, right now..." 

"That means that you're not searching enough. If you had them before, now you do too. And, if you don't want me to come, I don't want to come either. I want you to be totally convinced." 

"I want you to come and live here", she reassured. "I want to, I really do." 

"Yes, I know...", he accepted. "But before..." 

"But I don't think that anymore!" she cut in. 

"Panny...!", he exclaimed, looking at her expressively. 

"I can't find any reason for you not to move here, any more...!" 

He shot an incredulous glance at her. 

"Your privacy", he objected. 

"Nah! What do you mean? You occupy my privacy. I wouldn't feel threatened at all by your presence!" 

"You would... You are very well living on your own..." 

She glanced at him, serious. 

"No. My privacy is not a problem." 

"It is...!" 

"I've said that it isn't...! Look, boy, you know that my attacks of decision do not last very long... Do you want to move here, before I see a lot of inconveniences, or not?" 

He slowly shook his head no, despite all what his interior was crying. 

"No. You don't want to see the inconvenience now, but I won't stand when you see them and I mean a bother to you." 

"You would never...!", she exclaimed, cupping his cheek in her hand to force him to look at her. "Never. And you want to move, I have more space than what I need, we'd be so well living together. What else do you want?" 

He looked at her, thoughtful, before answering negatively. 

"No. I can't. I'd love to, but... Just a second before you were against this and..." 

"I know..." she answered, starting to accept her defeat. "In fact... it's not a great idea, is it? I mean that... nothing has changed... That the reasons we both have for not to live together... that they are still valid, well, they haven't changed...! It... it has no sense..." 

He smiled, saddened. The attack of decision, as she had named it, had already past, and he had not used it. But no, it was not decision, although she had named it so. It was nothing but an attack of optimism. 

"It would not work, and we could even end up ruining our friendship...", he murmured, supporting her. 

But she was not going to give up without a fight. 

"You know that nothing would ruin our friendship. After so long, nothing." 

"Never mind..." he conceded whilst giving her an incredulous glance. "We will not risk it anyway..." 

"But..." she even insisted. "It is so that if we don't ever risk it... we'll never reach further...!" 

He looked at her, thoughtful again. Yes, she was right. If they did not risk anything, they would never advance. And he was willing to advance, just not in that direction. If she had asked him, without further commentary, if he wanted to move with her, he, though the conditionality that he would have self-imposed – only if you want me to, Panny -, he would have jumped for joy immediately. But she had her reasons, she did not want him to, there was something stopping her... and he wouldn't intercede. Nothing had changed, notwithstanding the closeness, despite the reality of her lips on his, and her reasons ought to keep being valid, without exception. She did not want it that way. And he would make sure that she did not fool herself and ended disillusioned. 

"We will risk everything when the moment comes." he calmly answered. 

"Right. Which means no", she said, half annoyed. 

"No. You said..." 

"You don't even know why I said so!" the woman cut him off. 

He assented and looked somewhere else, avoiding her eyes. 

"I thought that you wouldn't want to tell me. Was I wrong?" 

She clicked her tongue, upset, and looked to the ground. 

"No, you were not wrong. But... I've changed my mind... I... I've decided that I want to tell you everything..." 

He looked at her again, surprised but not very confident. He also suffered from those attacks. Sometimes you can't hold any longer. Yes, he also suffered from them, it was curious. And, out of experience, he knew that it would disintegrate in a matter of seconds. 

"Are you sure...?" 

"Yes" 

"But you'll regret it..." 

"No. Not this time. I want to show you that our friendship is stronger than what you think. That it is possible to be sincere with one another without losing it." 

Her voice hid a determination that he had rarely seen in her. Yes, she was a decided girl. She was not as dubious as him. Nevertheless, it had never been necessary for her to take a decision that implied that determination, never when he was to see her, at least. Not even at Cc. In business... she was just – and she worked hard to be able to – one step ahead of them all. She didn't need to risk anything at all. 

A light silence grew between them during which they studied each other, staring at each other's eyes with a commodity got out of confidence and acknowledgement. When she spoke at last, he was already convinced of the fact that his girl was able of anything. 

"Trunks", she called, although she already had all his attention, forcing his active participation. He knew the game. 

"Yes?" 

"I want you to move, I want you to live with me." 

The man wished he could comment his role with the writer of that conversation. He knew Pan, and he knew that she wanted to establish the grounds of the argument that was about to start. That was the reason why she implicitly asked him if he wanted to move with her. He had to repeat his position. Such was the script; he had to. The problem was that he did not want to. There were little things in the world that he wished more than living under her roof. He did not want to keep the way he had just marked himself. 

"No", he answered with a tired sigh. 

"Why not?" 

He knew that that had all its sense. It was necessary. It was not a stupid game. That was the only reason why he went on. 

"We both have our reasons, Panny..." 

She nodded, pulling apart a bit to give more perspective to the conversation. She always did so, in reunions; she played with distance until she reached the total and absolute control of the conversation. 

"What reasons do you have for not coming to live with the gorgeous woman you have opposite to you...?", she whispered, with a seductive smile. 

He had to shyly smile with her provocation. 

"I doubt that the beauty I have opposite to me would be totally comfortable living with me." 

"Aren't you going to move with anyone? Not even when you get married?" 

He knew where she was aiming. He knew her too well to ignore which would be the next reason. 

"Of course I will. And, when I do, we will both have to get used to one another. We will have to make concessions, we will lose a lot of the symbols of our independence...", and she nodded, showing him that the supposition of her next words had been right in all. "But", he concluded, "this will be _when_ I marry. I have no right to make you lose your independence and privacy because I'm fed up with my parents." 

She stared at the ground, thoughtful. 

"When you marry...", she murmured, still deep inside her inner world. Before he could wonder what she could be thinking, the woman looked at him and, because of the way her eyes shone, he feared another reason. "When you marry... will you love her more than me...?" 

He did not foresee the trick that, with a sad face, lower lip outstanding a bit and knitted brows, she had made for him, until he was as trapped as he could be. 

"No...!", he answered, reassuringly. "Of course not...!" 

As soon as he finished answering, her expression became a seductive smile again. 

"Will you love her less, then...?" 

"No...", he whispered, then realising the strategy. 

"Then... why will you give her such a present... and you won't give it to me...?" 

"Come on, Panny...!", he prayed, with the same face she had just made for him. "Don't do this to me...! Be easy on me, you know that I have no answer to that...!" 

She shrugged, sorrowful. 

"Forgive me... I'm sorry. That's enough. It doesn't matter... I'll just insist that I wanted you to come to live with me. Although it might be a horrible idea, from your point of view..." 

"Hey!", he cut in. "I haven't said that it was a horrible idea! I would love to move here...!" 

"But it's a nonsense... isn't it...?" 

He looked at her before answering. Whatever he would say, he would end losing out. The truth, in equality of conditions, used to be right more often. 

"It is not. But..." 

She nodded and sweetly stroked his hair. 

"When you marry..." 

Something in her eyes or her voice made him look at her, fearing that she was upset. When he did so, the woman smiled at him, partly confirming his suspicions. Without taking his eyes off of her, he put a hand over her hand, which was still touching his hair. 

"If I am to marry..." 

She looked at his eyes for an instant and looked down again. 

"Of course you will... You'll see..." 

"Have I made you sad...?", he asked, very, very softly. 

"No... No, don't worry. You know what is the worst?" 

"What...?" 

"That", she answered, ironically smiling, "if I needed the money to pay the house you would come to live with me. Whereas, if I really want you to come with me, despite being economically self-sufficient, you say no..." 

"I thought", he interrupted her, taking her by the chin and lifting her face until she looked at him, "that you had your reasons as well. Am I wrong?" 

She nodded. 

"I had." 

"Not anymore?", he insisted. 

"Yes... But... I'm not listening to them..." 

"Why not...?" 

"Because they are not good reasons... Because I don't want to listen to them. If you start wondering what makes sense, in the end nothing does, don't you think?" 

The man agreed with her. 

"But, anyway... you should listen to what your head is saying..." 

"I am... But I must also listen to what my heart tells me, mustn't I?" 

He consented with her again. 

"And who wins...?" 

"You", she answered, with half a smile. "You win. I'll leave you alone, you don't want to come live with me, so don't come... But promise me that you won't bring the subject up if you are not decided to come live with me. OK...?" She made a pause, waiting for him to answer, and she went on after he nodded. "Let's drop the subject..." 

Her sad gesture touched some soft spot in his insides. She really wanted him to live with her, although having reasons for not doing so. And he was dying to share anything, whatever, with her, specially her home. He was letting slide the best chance he had had in years. So what if he lost control like he had done only minutes before? So what if he kissed her, if the wish to kiss her body everywhere – he clearly imagined her laughing, a bit shy, when hearing such a wish – was uncontrollable and his lips met again the source of all form of life, which trapped them as if it never wanted to let go? Losing control had leaded him to kiss the most perfect woman in the universe, losing control had allowed him to see the most beautiful glance in his life, hunger of him accurately reflected in her eyes. And risks? He couldn't remember any! Their friendship endangered? No, never. Everything had been natural, fluid, without leaps or uncomfortableness. One simple and correlated temporal and mystical loss of control. That was all. What he had so long feared to happen when reaching her lips, that she got angry, that she threw him out, that she did not want to ever see him again, not only had not happened but it had all been the opposite: she had wanted more, it had been her who made him lose innocence in their kiss. She was begging him to move with her, not literally begging but trying her hardest to find reasons supporting her, convincing him the best way she knew. What was more, the best way Pan would ever use to plead for her objectives, being dearer her motivation than having really begged. 

All and all, she really wanted him to go live with her. Moreover, she affirmed that her friendship, though risked, was not endangered and nothing would ever pull them apart. She was nearly making a declaration of objectives, almost telling him what she wanted and that there would be no casualties in the process. 

Perhaps that made it, or perhaps he was not resigned to drop the subject without having decided to move together, but he could not force himself to inactivity. He simply couldn't. Therefore, after quite a while in silence, he returned to the question. 

"But... but you have your reasons, haven't you... for not... for me not moving here...?" 

He saw the woman smile triumphantly and blushed. 

"Toran...", she murmured, making him shiver because of the use of the nickname that only she used. "Must I take it as your conclusion to the subject... or that you are retaking it...?" 

He naughtily smiled, knowing what she indeed implied. 

"Let's say that I'm retaking it..." 

She nodded, making her victorious smile wider, and hugged him forcefully in a rampage. 

"I knew it! I knew that you couldn't let it slip!!", she exclaimed in his ear. 

He nodded as well and kissed her cheek, totally sharing her happiness. 

"Of course not, my hotshot, of course not... Who would ever be able to say no to you...?" 

"Then... you're coming, aren't you? You are?", she insisted, to make sure, though her voice clearly indicated that she needed no more security. 

"I'm coming to live with you. I'm coming to live here, with you. You want me to, don't you?" 

"Yes! Of course I do!! And you...?" 

He nodded in response and kissed her cheek again. Yes, of course he would. It was what he wanted, what she wanted, there was no inconvenience but a lot of advantages. Of course he would. 

Well, in fact... there was an inconvenience indeed: that she may see any inconvenience at all. He had to make sure. 

"But... are you sure that you want me to...? You said before..." 

"Yes, I know", she cut him off. "I know what I've said but... I can't see any problem, now..." 

Hardly thinking and given that there was nothing that would break their friendship, he simply blurted out what he was thinking, though he was feeling guilty only for thinking that. 

"What were your reasons before...?", he innocently asked, not quite realising what his lips were letting come out. 

She pulled backwards to look at him for a second before smiling and answering. 

"I was afraid that having you living here brought us to celebrate Easter Sunday before the Processions of Palms." 

He looked at her, serious, without understanding very well what she meant, though he could perfectly understand what she meant by that expression. Easter Sunday before the Processions of Palms. Sex before marriage. 

"Are you joking...?", he asked, choking and unsure. 

She shook her head no. 

"Not a bit. But you know that I like expressing things in a... different way. This way they are more easily remembered and, when our grandchildren ask you, you will have more details to explain to them...!", she joked. "But I'm not joking. The problem is that you chose the conventional side of it... How improper of you, _honey_! 

He smiled shyly. She was paraphrasing one of her favourites books, and he knew so. Nevertheless, he couldn't understand what she meant with it. Had she so clearly seen his interior to the point of knowing that, given contact enough, he would not be able to hold the desire for her that he had been accumulating for centuries? So little she knew him, so little she trusted him? Of course not...! She meant nothing like that, she could not mean anything of the sort. He waited for her to continue, while the tittle of the book kept popping in his mind, taking its sense from the figure before him. To live, to be with her... all and all, it was not strange. It was incredible. 

"Easter Sunday before the Palms", she repeated, thoughtful. "This sentence, we've used it too much. What sense does it have, hotshot?" 

He looked at her, sceptical. 

"Is there any trick in the question...?" 

She shook her head no. 

"What does it mean, Trunks...?" 

"Well... having sex before being married..." 

She nodded. 

"Classical, traditional and a bit... antique meaning...", she commented, putting a finger on her lower lip, where it tapped a couple of times. "I did not mean that. That 'Easter' and that 'procession', they will come to us in time, as it will to every lamb. It was not that. As I see it... there are a series of bad moments to pass through, bad moments we have to pass through together, but that we'll make for one another... This is the procession of palms. What we will get in the end, after passing through that small bad moments will be infinitely better than the Easter that we could get jumping over them. But, and this is the problem, it's too easy to jump over them. It is easy to take the fruit without responsibilities, without obligations... This is Easter before the Procession of palms. And, for the sake of our friendship, for the sake of our relationship that goes farther than friendship, Trunks, I don't want this to happen. Far enough we are already going, already we are enough to be cowards. I don't want that living together pushes us further without having walked the steps that makes everything have sense" 

He digested her words in silence, looking at her, observing her, drinking them as they were poured from her. He could understand her. He could understand her surprisingly well, as if they were both taking the thoughts out of the same source. Her every word was being given form and volume in his mind, adjusting to his ideas and expectations in an exact way. The comprehension that she was not as ignorant of what had happened inside him as he wanted to believe or, in other words, as how ignorant he was of her, was something that slowly but undeniably arrived. He knew that she knew, that she understood, that she shared with same feeling and passion. He knew that she was dying to live with him, but not that way, not that way. He knew, and for one moment that was enough to confer to him energy and determination like he had rarely felt. He looked at her, and understood that that strength was coming from her, from her and from himself, from what was between them. The window, connecting soul and soul, was open. His hand grabbed the woman's. Under no concept it will be closed. With a movement that he had never even imagined or measured, he pulled her hand. Out of fellow feeling for years, the woman bent just like he had imagined her to, vertiginously approaching him. The little centimetres that kept them apart went by dissolving as he stared into those eyes only , wondering how he'd been able to ignore all that for so long, how he could let so many months pass by. His arm embraced her firmer, feeling the curve of her back, so real in his arms that she was taking reality out of everything else. Her hand, however, climbed his arm, caressing it while climbing, until it was put around his neck. She looked intensely at him. 

"Trunks", she said, without any inflexion. "Not this way" 

He shook his head, bringing her closer to him. 

"Of course not, my love. Not this way", he firmly murmured before bringing her even closer and kissing her lips with the passion he had saved during unending nights, amplified by the energy that they shared. 

She received him, stretching her grasp around his neck, and her lips imprisoned his again, more receptive this time, more fighting but less wining. Softly, they went on by exploring each other's lips with their own, both feeling, he was sure, the electrical currents passing through them from head to toe. 

Little by little, he started pulling backwards, wondering how many things he would fail, how many things he would make before their procession of palms. She kissed his lips one last time, pulling him closer, before giving in, what almost and, thank god, only almost, made him lose every decision against continuing that kiss forever. It was just too easy to celebrate Easter with Pan...! 

When she finally drew apart from him, her beauty took him. If the woman normally was pretty, in that moment, exultant, exalted by love and full of energy, rose cheeks and reddened lips out of contact, then she was gorgeous. Her eyes were sparkling, her hair was messy, let loose , and he could think about nothing but kissing her and kissing her and kissing. He could not help it. 

And, although he knew that he had to talk, that he had to explain himself, going through the steps that she had named, the bad moments, he knew that he couldn't, that he was at a loss of words, that he had been wishing for that for too long to be able to think at all after having tasted it. She, keeping her silence and with her eyes locked with his, touched his hair, combing it with her fingers without even being conscious, and he wondered how her hair could be so messy, only to realise instants later that it had been one of his own hands that, following her hand's example, had got lost in her hair, firmly approaching her to him. 

Feeling himself trembling from head to toe, he decided to break the silence. 

"Not... not this way...", he murmured, noticing that that was the only thing that he could say, but that it wasn't even coming out as a plea or pain, but only dreamily, showing off how dumbfounded he was. 

She smiled, not less alienated than him, and clasped his hand. 

"Yes. This way, we can. I love you, Trunks." 

He clasped her hand as well in response and he knew that there was no need to make differences between love between siblings and what they were both feeling. Without words, they both knew what the other meant. 

"I do love you as well, Pan. A lot..." 

Anyway, having tried, he would not have been able to make distinctions, for her smile, happier than he had ever seen, and two big tears, when he had never seen Pan crying, rolling down her cheeks, interrupted them, making him feel the power of the window between them both that their deep acknowledgement of each other had opened. Hugging her very tight, he felt how the tears also welled in his eyes and, as he kissed her neck, he let them roll down as well. They were on their first step of the so-called procession of palms. He would have lots of things to explain to their grandchildren. But in those moments, not even the conscience of being about to end the days and nights full of sorrow and indecision meant nothing for him. In those moments, Pan was everything for him. And, inside that 'everything', Pan was his happiness. 

TBC 


End file.
